'What am I to do? Stay here. I will run upstairs, and put them off.'
He ran up into the crush-room. The opera was just over, and some parties
who were not staying the ballet, had already assembled there. As he
passed along he was stopped by Lady Fitz-pompey, who would not let such
a capital opportunity escape of exhibiting Caroline and the young Duke
together.
'Mr. Bulkley,' said her Ladyship, 'there must be something wrong about
the carriage.' An experienced, middle-aged gentleman, who jobbed on in
society by being always ready and knowing his cue, resigned the arm of
Lady Caroline St. Maurice and disappeared.
'George,' said Lady Fitz-pompey, 'give your arm to Carry just for one
moment.'
If it had been anybody but his cousin, the Duke would easily have
escaped; but Caroline he invariably treated with marked regard; perhaps
because his conscience occasionally reproached him that he had not
treated her with a stronger feeling. At this moment, too, she was
the only being in the world, save one, whom he could remember with
satisfaction: he felt that he loved her most affectionately, but somehow
she did not inspire him with those peculiar feelings which thrilled his
heart at the recollection of May Dacre.
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