The two stood glaring at one another. “Do you say that deliberately?” asked Hamilton at length. “What if I do?” retorted the other. “Then, by God, you’ll provoke me to disprove it.” “On your kinswoman?” “I’ll not be insulted for nothing.” “You shall not be. I’ll see to it. Forewarned is to have my answer ready to the occasion.” He smacked his hand to his sword-hilt, and, turning very haughtily, stalked out of the room. Hamilton, breathing hard, watched his departure, and presently dropped back into his chair, with a sneering laugh. “The sword is the only resource of a fool,” thought he. “The Duke, and now me--’tis his one solution for everything. But he’ll think better of it--never give away his cuckoldom so openly. His----” He frowned heavily, as he pondered. “Has it come to that, and _was_ Mrs. Moll instrumental in arranging this meeting? And is she making us all her dupes--me included? I’d give something to look into her mind. But she’s to receive her _congé_; and ’tis as well, I think--especially as it saves me the necessity of settling with her. Yet, as to her reputed traffic with the Duke--and this Kit’s part in it? O, mercy on us all! I must see her somehow, and set my wits to hers--_fin contre fin_, or, if need be, _fort contre fin_. O, what a plaguey difficult and fascinating world this is! If a man can’t hate without wrong and can’t love without wrong, where is the ethical mean to justify his creation? I’ll go be an oyster.” He didn’t do that; but, hearing of the Earl being on duty that evening with her Majesty, and assuming the Countess’s coincident attendance at Court, he slipped over to the Chesterfields’ quarters, in the hope and expectation of finding Mrs. Davis yawning away the hours there with only herself for company. But, to his surprise, and irresistible gratification, he found, not Moll, but her little ladyship herself in solitary possession of the great chamber; at which discovery his eyes glowed and his pulses thrilled. “What, Kate!” says he, glibly lying. “I never hoped to find you alone.” She had received him with no sign of fervour corresponding to his own, and now looked up from her work a little chill and unresponsive. “Why should you have hoped it, cousin?” she said. “Why should you show pleasure now that it is so?” “Why, are we not near and dear kinsfolk?” said he. “Not near enough for the forbidden degrees,” she answered, “and therefore not near enough to be alone together.” His brows went up. “You were not wont to speak to me like this. What have I done to change you?” “O! nothing.” “That is quite true. Well, _my_ feelings have not changed.” “I was sure they had not.” “Were you?” He looked at her curiously, but her impassive face gave him no clue to her thoughts. “Did you expect to find my lord?” she said, again quietly busy at her work. “Or was it, perhaps, Mrs. Davis you sought?” “If I sought one I sought the other,” he answered. “They are not long to be caught apart.”