"
Sofia said nothing, but put her half-empty glass aside. The wine had done
her good, she thought. She felt better, stronger, mentally more alert, and
at the same time curiously soothed.
Victor refolded the note and tapped the table with it, holding Sofia with
speculative eyes.
"It should be amusing," he said, thoughtfully, "a new experience for you.
Elaine--I mean Lady Randolph West, of course--is a charming hostess, and
never fails to fill Frampton Court with delightful people."
"I'm sure I should love it."
"I am sure you would. And yet ... I may have been a little premature, since
I have already written accepting the invitation." He indicated an addressed
envelope face up on the table. "But on second thoughts, it seemed perhaps
wiser to consult you first."
"But if it is your wish, I must go," Sofia replied, mindful of Karslake's
injunction not to oppose Victor. "What have I to say--?"
"Everything about whether we accept or do not--or if not everything, at
least the final word. I must abide by your decision."
"But I shall be only too glad--"
"Think a moment. It might be wiser not to go. You alone can say."
"I don't quite understand ..."
Victor sighed. "It is a painful subject," he said, slowly--"one I hesitate
to reopen. But we can never profit by closing our minds to facts; I mean,
to the reality of the danger which is always with us, since it is within
us."
"What danger?" Sofia enquired, sullenly, knowing the answer too well before
it was spoken.
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