"Shall I take you
upstairs to your own room?"
"No, I think I should faint if I had to go upstairs," I answered. "Yet I
can't stay here. What shall I do?"
"What about Uncle Eric's study?" Di asked. She always calls Lord
Mountstuart 'Uncle Eric,' though he isn't her uncle. Her mother and his
wife were sisters, that's all: and then there was the other sister who
married the British Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a cousin of Lord
Mountstuart's. That family seemed to have a craze for American girls;
but Lord Mountstuart makes an exception of me. He's civil, of course,
because he's an abject slave of Di's, and she refused to come and pay a
visit in England without me: but I give him the shivers, I know very
well: and I take an impish joy in making him jump.
"I'm sure he won't be there this evening," Di went on, when I hesitated.
"He's playing bridge with a lot of dear old boys in the library, or was,
half an hour ago. Come, let me help you there. It's only a step."
She put her pretty arm round my waist, and leaning on her I walked
across the room, out into a corridor, through a tiny "bookroom" where
odd volumes and old magazines are kept, into Lord Mountstuart's study.
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