He had drawn back in annoyance at the moment when she faced him so unexpectedly. She was the last person he wished to meet at that moment. "Oh," he answered rather coldly, taking her hands in greeting, "I dined at the Club. I'm not very well," he added wearily. "But not too queer to go to the Duchess's ball?" "The Duchess's ball? I don't understand," he said, looking at her puzzled. "Why, surely you keep a note of your engagements, or Wrey does for you? It's quite three weeks ago since we arranged to go there together." "To go where?" "Why, to the Duchess of Penarth's ball. You of course remembered that she asked us both, and we promised. You had a card, no doubt." "Perhaps I had," he said blankly, for he received so many invitations that he always left it to Wrey, his private secretary, to attend to the resulting correspondence. He had gone little into society, except when Claudia Nevill took him as her escort. "Perhaps?" she exclaimed. "Why, whatever is the matter with you, Dudley? You've not been at all yourself for some days past. Now, tell me--do." He was silent for a few moments. "I told you when I was last at Albert Gate," he said at length very seriously. "I thought my words were quite plain, Claudia." "You spoke all sorts of absurd things about scandals and gossip," she laughed, reseating herself and motioning him to a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. "But you were not yourself, so I didn't take any heed of it." "I told you exactly what I intended doing," he answered, standing before her, with his back to the fire. "I am surprised to find you here." "And who has been putting all these absurd ideas into your head, my dear Dudley?" asked the brilliant woman in the magnificent Doeuillet ball toilette. "You know that we love each other, so what's the use of kicking against the pricks? Now go and put on a dress coat and a pair of gloves and take me to Penarth House, there's a good fellow--the Duchess expects us." "Her Grace doesn't expect me, for I declined." "You declined!" cried his fair companion. "Why?" "Wrey declined. He has recently had orders from me to decline all such invitations. Dances only bore me. I'm too much occupied with official business." "Official business! Bosh! Leave it alone for a time and enjoy yourself. You are really becoming quite the old crony." "Better that than--well, than to be one of the set who were down at Fernhurst Abbey." She glanced at him swiftly, with a curious, half-apprehensive look. "At Fernhurst? What do you mean?" "I mean, Claudia, that there were certain incidents at Fernhurst which do not reflect much credit upon either the man or the woman." "And I am the woman, of course?" He nodded. "And the man? Name him." "A certain foreigner." "Ah!" she laughed lightly. "So you've heard all about it already. You mean the Grand-Duke. He was such fun, such a soft-headed fool. He actually thought himself in love with me."