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Page 45
DUCHESS.
But we are liable to be interrupted at any moment. The joint romance of
our lives, Harry, ought not to end with a curt word and formal
hand-shake in an exposed spot of this kind. [_Sitting in the garden
chair._] Oh, it cannot, must not, end so!
QUEX.
[_Eyeing her uneasily._] Frankly, I see nothing else for it.
DUCHESS.
I can't credit it. Why, what was the second reason for my coming here?
QUEX.
Second reason?
DUCHESS.
That our parting might be in keeping with our great attachment!
QUEX.
Impossible.
DUCHESS.
Impracticable?
QUEX.
In every way, impossible.
DUCHESS.
[_Taking his hand._] Oh, don't say that, dear Harry! Ah, the auguries
tell me that what I ask will be.
QUEX.
[_Omitting, in his anxiety, to withdraw his hand._] The auguries?
DUCHESS.
Fate--coincidence--call it what you please--foreshadows one more meeting
between us.
QUEX.
Coincidence?
DUCHESS.
[_Intensely, in a low voice._] Harry, do you remember a particular
evening at Stockholm?
QUEX.
[_Hazily._] Stockholm?
DUCHESS.
That evening upon which we discovered how much our society meant to each
other!
QUEX.
[_Vaguely, while he hastily recovers possession of his hand._] At
Stockholm was it--?
DUCHESS.
You were sailing with us in the Baltic--you must recollect? Our yacht
had put in at Stockholm; we had come to the Grand Hotel. Strood had
retired, and you and I were sitting out upon the balcony watching the
lights of the caf� on the Norrbro and the tiny steamboats that stole to
and fro across the harbour. Surely you recollect?
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