ABSTRACT
THERE was upon the Archduke’s dark face an expression that Karyl immediately interpreted as dangerous. She was partly awareof the reason. He had been pressing her for an interview these many weeks, suggesting they should meet in Paris, Ostend, Berlin, and, finally, had come to London incognito, resolved to see her. Three times she had put him off with excuses, and had told him that this Sunday night she was engaged. To make this sure she had sent for Jocelyn. How could she be more seriously engaged than upon the new play that was to follow The Land of Lackadaisy? she argued; but her excuse, however valid it might appear to herself, had evidently no value in the eyes of His Serene Highness. His air, in entering her library, was that of a Sultan commanding the immediate presence of his favourite slave. Karyl received him coldly, presented Jocelyn to him, and waited for him to apologise for his intrusion.
