"Heaven knows," said a second. "But, I say, boys, let's have a drink." Carey found in the office that there was time to catch the next mail steamer from Liverpool for Boston if he rushed to the next train. "The cursed scoundrel spoke the truth," he said to himself, "but I hope that I have crushed his head, just the same; and now I shall be in America in five days--and then--" He looked out at the landscape whirling by the windows of the railway carriage and set his teeth. CHAPTER XVII. AT THE COURT OF ST. JAMES. The news of the arrival of Mrs. Oswald Carey in Boston caused some flutter in social circles. Her precise relations to the exiled King became at once a subject for speculation. Men of the world, with a taste for scandal, shrugged their shoulders and laughed knowingly. Charitably disposed people, who did not believe in bothering their heads about their neighbors' affairs, preferred to give her the benefit of the doubt. The serious question was whether society ought to open its doors to her. Her reputation as a beauty had preceded her. The American public had long been familiar with her fascinating face. Should she be welcomed as a sister or treated to the cold shoulder, which the world regards as the due of Mary Magdalene? Girls settle everything in America. Two married women and a maiden met to discuss the propriety of inviting Mrs. Oswald Carey to five o'clock tea. One of them brought the particulars of her life vouched for by the most charming attaches of the court. Her career had been peculiarly sad. She was the victim of a most affecting romance. The man whom she loved with all the passion of which woman is capable had discarded her for another. She had been left poor and friendless. She had supported herself by painting china and by the pittance derived from the sale of her photographs, the last not of course quite the thing, but pardonable under the circumstances. Then, and not until then, she might have been somewhat unconventional. "Girls," exclaimed the maiden, "even if she has been a little indiscreet in the past, a grand, superb woman such as she ought not to be judged by ordinary standards." "Besides, the King is old enough to be her father," said another. "I don't believe there is anything in these stories." "It would be a pity to offend the dear old King," said the third.