Jimmy, on his way at last to London, stopped once more at The Dials,
and was hurrying across the forest when the Duchess herself appeared to
him at the big dial. She wore her furs, muff, and big enveloping
stole, her hat with fur on it, and a veil. She was not in house or
garden trim. The urban air of her toilet was a surprise to Bulstrode,
and he took in her readiness for something he had not expected,
something great, something decisive.

"It's good of you to come when you must be full of delightful ways of
passing your time, Mr. Bulstrode," she said, "and I wanted so much to
see you again."

"Again?"

"Of course," she replied nodding, "again and many times. But I mean I
wanted to see you _here_." Bulstrode did not want her to tell him a
piece of final news. He did not care to learn of an arbitrary
departure, and he said, laughing: "Then you don't like my property?
Any repairs you...?"

"Oh, I adore The Dials," she said gravely, "and I can't think why they
ever let you buy it, or what you'll do with it after I'm gone." She
smiled. ".... or with whom." Before he could speak she added: "Where
is my husband to-day?"

"I left him wandering about the house like a lost spirit," Bulstrode
replied. "Looking," he went on, "all about for something or other. I
expect he himself didn't quite know what. For something to cheer up
the empty rooms."

"Oh, don't," she murmured.

But he seemed pleased with the picture he drew. "I doubt if Westboro'
stops in the house alone; he's probably gone out shooting."

"But he has a house full of people....?"

"No one has come, or is coming, after all."

"You don't mean to say that they've all refused!"

"Yes," Jimmy said, "every man of them, and all the women as well."

The Duchess put out her hand quickly, and said touchingly: "Oh, but you
don't for a moment think----"

"That it's because of the scandal, dear lady?" he smiled. "Well, that
would be a new phase. No, I think on the other hand they would revel,
and the only reason in the world that they have not come down is that
they were really asked too late. Christmas week, you know--

"And, of course, then, Mrs. Falconer," the Duchess's face brightened.
"She----"

"Oh, _she_!" Bulstrode exclaimed, "she's as right as possible. She's
sure to be along in good season."

"Oh!" accepted the Duchess, "and with whom does she come?"

Bulstrode waited. "Well, of course, the poor thing expects to find
more o