"No, no; let me, I beg you," said the Duke, in a tone of distress.
And dropping on one knee, he began to gather together the fallen
papers. He set them on the table, and then he said: "You mustn't
mind what Germaine says. She's--she's--she's all right at heart.
It's her manner. She's always been happy, and had everything she
wanted. She's been spoiled, don't you know. Those kind of people
never have any consideration for any one else. You mustn't let her
outburst hurt you."

"Oh, but I don't. I don't really," protested Sonia.

"I'm glad of that," said the Duke. "It isn't really worth noticing."

He drew the envelopes and unused cards into a packet, and handed
them to her.

"There!" he said, with a smile. "That won't be too heavy for you."

"Thank you," said Sonia, taking it from him.

"Shall I carry them for you?" said the Duke.

"No, thank you, your Grace," said Sonia.

With a quick, careless, almost irresponsible movement, he caught her
hand, bent down, and kissed it. A great wave of rosy colour flowed
over her face, flooding its whiteness to her hair and throat. She
stood for a moment turned to stone; she put her hand to her heart.
Then on hasty, faltering feet she went to the door, opened it,