Then I won't care. What is Parliament to me without her? And the
election is as good as lost already. The other side has made as much as
possible of the scandal. . . ."
The only letters that have not been misery to read have come from
Eleanor Faversham. There was one passage which made me thank God that He
had created such women as Eleanor--
"Don't fret over the newspaper lies, dear. Those who love you--and why
shouldn't I love you still?--know the honourable gentleman that you are.
Write to me if it would ease your heart and tell me just what you feel
you can. Now and always you have my utter sympathy and understanding."
And this is the woman of whose thousand virtues I dared to speak in
flippant jest.
Heaven forgive me.
After receiving Lady Kynnersley's appeal, I went to Lola. It was just
before the case came on at the Cour d'Assises. She had finished luncheon
in her private room and was sitting over her coffee. I joined her. She
wore the black blouse and skirt with which I have not yet been able
to grow familiar, as it robbed her of the peculiar fascinating quality
which I have tried to suggest by the word pantherine.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314