'Paul
Fiske' may even be the pseudonym of a woman."
The Earl rose from his place.
"This afternoon," he announced, "I read the latest article of this
Paul Fiske. In my opinion he is an exceedingly mischievous
person, without the slightest comprehension of the forces which
really count in government."
The Bishop's eyes twinkled as he left the room with his hand on
his godson's arm.
"It would be interesting," he whispered, "to hear this man Fiske's
opinion of your father's last speech in the House of Lords upon
land interests!"
It was not until the close of a particularly unsatisfactory
evening of uninspiring bridge that Julian saw anything more of
Catherine. She came in from the picture gallery, breathless,
followed by four or five of the young soldiers, to whom she had
been showing the steps of a new dance, and, turning to Julian with
an impulsiveness which surprised him, laid her fingers
imperatively upon his arm.
"Take me somewhere, please, where we can sit down and talk," she
begged, "and give me something to drink."
He led the way into the billiard room and rang the bell.
"You have been overtiring yourself," he said, looking down at her
curiously.
"Have I?" she answered. "I don't think so. I used to dance all
through the night in Paris and Rome, a few years ago. These young
men are so clumsy, though--and I think that I am nervous."
She lay back in her chair and half closed her eyes. A servant
brought in the Evian water for which she had asked and a whisky
and soda for Julian.
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