“Then I will tell you,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “I have received an offer of marriage from Mr. Athelstan Moore.” Had she received an offer of marriage from his Satanic Majesty, her cousin could not have looked more aghast. She started to her feet, the colour ebbing from her cheeks. “From Athelstan Moore?” she repeated, in a voice of excitement. “But surely you will not accept it? You cannot accept it!” The Countess clasped her hands at the back of her head, and regarded her cousin imperturbably. “Why not?” she asked, with irritating calmness. “I am only twenty-six, and tired of my widowhood. There is no earthly reason why I should not marry again. What could be more satisfactory than a widow with one little boy marrying a widower with one little girl? And Athelstan Moore is one of the first men in England, and has been angled for by every girl in society since his wife died. I should be very foolish if I did not give his proposal very careful consideration.” Patricia paced the room in agitation. “I thought you loved my Cousin Chesterwood,” she said. “I did not think you would be faithless to his memory so soon.” “You have no right to use the word ‘faithless,’” the Countess returned, with a touch of hauteur. “I made Chesterwood a true wife while he lived; I have nothing to reproach myself with where he is concerned. But I have always had the desire for power. I am tired of being a mere society puppet with a coronet. As wife of the Prime Minister I should shine in a manner after my own heart. There is a certain fascination in helping to pull the wires which govern the State.” “You would help to accomplish the downfall of Lionel Montella’s race?” said Patricia, her face hardening. “I had thought our friendship was tried and true, Mamie; but it seems that, like everything else, it is only transient, seeing that you are so willing to relinquish it.” “Nonsense! You are too much given to high-falutin’, Pat. Be sensible. Why should the Premier’s wife be considered unworthy of your friendship?” “It is not a case of ‘unworthiness’ at all. The Premier is the enemy of my future husband and of his co-religionists. If you marry him, it is not possible that you can still be my greatest friend. There can be no intercourse between your house and mine. Do you not understand? Mr. Moore would probably forbid you to visit or receive me, and Lionel would have to do the same.” “I do not quite see it,” the Countess returned obdurately. “Politics need not interfere with a private and personal friendship. I think you exaggerate the matter, my dear. Why, I might even influence Moore on behalf of Montella’s cause. I might be the saviour of Judaism, and receive the thanks of every Jew in the kingdom. Instead of becoming your enemy, I might prove myself in very truth your friend.”