"Do you call yourself an old man, milord?" she asked.
"I am not decrepit--years need not bring that," was his answer. "But
I believe I became an old man before I was thirty. I have grown no
older--in that which is really age--since then."
In the moment's silence which followed, his glance met Mademoiselle
Valle's and fixed itself.
"I am not old enough--or young enough--to be enamoured of Mrs.
Gareth-Lawless' little daughter," he said. "YOU need not be told
that. But you have heard that there are those who amuse themselves
by choosing to believe that I am."
"A few light and not too clean-minded fools," she admitted without
flinching.
"No man can do worse for himself than to explain and deny," he
responded with a smile at once hard and fine. "Let them continue
to believe it."
CHAPTER XX
Sixteen passed by with many other things much more disturbing
and important to the world than a girl's birthday; seventeen was
gone, with passing events more complicated still and increasingly
significant, but even the owners of the hands hovering over the
Chessboard, which was the Map of Europe, did not keep a watch on
all of them as close as might have been kept with advantage. Girls
in their teens are seldom interested in political and diplomatic
conditions, and Robin was not fond of newspapers. She worked well
and steadily under Mademoiselle's guidance, and her governess
realized that she was not losing sight of her plans for self
support.
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