And the third at
the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as
Monsieur le Baron de Seurs.
Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was
a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to
sustain, wherein lay her life's work.
"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger
than London, after all."
"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I
am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion."
Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let
the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some
more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side.
"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?"
"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered.
"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't
stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De
Seurs."
Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He
mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties.
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