‘Rather a missy-missy schoolgirl sort of necklace,’ Mr. Beamish observed; ‘but he might have it, without the dismissal, for I cannot consent to lose Alonzo. No, madam,’ he nodded at the duchess. Caseldy continued his whisper: ‘You can’t think of wearing a thing like that about your neck?’ ‘Indeed,’ said Chloe, ‘I think of it.’ ‘Why, what fashion have you over here?’ ‘It is not yet a fashion,’ she said. ‘A silken circlet will not well become any precious pendant that I know of.’ ‘A bag of dust is not a very precious pendant,’ she said. ‘Oh, a memento mori!’ cried he. And she answered, ‘Yes.’ He rallied her for her superstition, pursuing, ‘Surely, my love, ‘tis a cheap riddance of a pestilent, intrusive jaloux. Whip it into his hands for a mittimus.’ ‘Does his presence distress you?’ she asked. ‘I will own that to be always having the fellow dogging us, with his dejected leer, is not agreeable. He watches us now, because my lips are close by your cheek. He should be absent; he is one too many. Speed him on his voyage with the souvenir he asks for.’ ‘I keep it for a journey of my own, which I may have to take,’ said Chloe. ‘With me?’ ‘You will follow; you cannot help following me, Caseldy.’ He speculated on her front. She was tenderly smiling. ‘You are happy, Chloe?’ ‘I have never known such happiness,’ she said. The brilliancy of her eyes confirmed it. He glanced over at Duchess Susan, who was like a sunflower in the sun. His glance lingered a moment. Her abundant and glowing young charms were the richest fascination an eye like his could dwell on. ‘That is right,’ said he. ‘We will be perfectly happy till the month ends. And after it? But get us rid of Monsieur le Jeune; toss him that trifle; I spare him that. ‘Twill be bliss to him, at the cost of a bit of silk thread to us. Besides, if we keep him to cure him of his passion here, might it not be--these boys veer suddenly, like the winds of Albion, from one fair object to t’ other--at the cost of the precious and simple lady you are guarding? I merely hint. These two affect one another, as though it could be. She speaks of him. It shall be as you please, but a trifle like that, my Chloe, to be rid of a green eye!’ ‘You much wish him gone?’ she said. He shrugged. ‘The fellow is in our way.’ ‘You think him a little perilous for my innocent lady?’ ‘Candidly, I do.’ She stretched the half-plaited silken rope in her two hands to try the strength of it, made a second knot, and consigned it to her pocket.