Secret History Revealed By Lady Peggy O'MalleyWilliamson, C. N. (Charles Norris)
General
Secret History Revealed By Lady Peggy O'Malley
Williamson, C. N. (Charles Norris)
Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
I had rushed into talk with Eagle before we stopped shaking hands; but
he had not been able to answer the call of conventionality so soon; and
it was not till after we were seated at table that he could control
himself to speak. On his other side was Prince Paul's elderly dinner
companion. On my other side was the new military attache who had taken
the count's place in the Embassy, a man past the soldiering age; and as
he had Madame Pavlova to talk to, for him I did not exist. Eagle and I
could speak to each other as if we were alone together in a forest
haunted with far-off voices.
"What a fool I was to come here!" he said. "I ought to have known."
"Don't be sorry," I whispered. "Think how glad I am to see you. And
there's no reason--no reason in the world--why you should wish to keep
out of _their_ way. You have nothing to be ashamed of--but very proud."
"I _am_ glad to see you again," he answered. "Don't imagine I'm not! But
I meant to see you, anyhow. I've known for weeks where you were. I made
that kind old parson who piloted you home promise to wire to an address
I gave, when you got safely back to England. And afterward he wrote to
tell me what fine work you were doing. This is the first time I've been
out anywhere except for an invalid crawl or two. It's only three days
since we left the nursing home in Fitzroy Square, where Prince and
Princess Sanzanow visited us several times. Skobeleff is their nephew,
you know. They asked us both to stay with them, and Skobeleff is being
moved here by his servant to-night; but I made an excuse not to
come--said it would hurt the feelings of an old friend who had offered
to lend me his chambers in Whitehall Court to finish getting well in.
The Sanzanows wouldn't take a refusal for dinner this evening, though.
It made no difference my telling them who I really am, March instead of
Mars. I thought they were sure to know something of my story. They said,
when I tried to cry off, that it was going to be a small dinner--just a
few friends who would like to meet Skobeleff and me, so I let myself be
persuaded. This is the result!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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