Surely women are strange
creatures. In any case, one may observe the yellow brooch agitated now and
ill at ease.
Very soon, too, Cards came to make his farewells--he was going to Paris for
the whole of May.
"What! Won't you be back for the beginning of the Season?" cried Peter
astonished.
"No," Cards answered, laughing. "For once the Season can commence without
me."
He was especially affectionate but seemed anxious to be gone. His dark eyes
avoided Peter's gaze. He didn't look well--a little anxious: and Cards was
generally the soul of light-hearted carelessness.
What a splendid fellow he was! Peter looked him up and down taking that
same delight that he had always taken in his distinction, his good looks,
his ease. "He ought to have been born king of somewhere," Peter used to
think, "he ought really--no wonder people spoil him."
"There's another thing," Peter said, "you're forgetting Clare's birthday
next week. She'll be dreadfully disappointed at your not being here for
it."
"I'll have to remember it from Paris," Cards said.
"Well--it's an awful pity that you're going for a whole month. I don't know
what we shall do without you. And you cheer Clare up--she's rather
depressed just now. Thinks of the kid a bit, I expect."
"Well, I'll write," said Cards, and was gone.
II
Peter received at this time a letter that showed him that he had, at any
rate, one friend, in the world who believed in him.
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