Edgar Jepson

“ Bletsoe repeated.
He went back to the drawing-room and, somewhat morosely inviting Agatha to come upstairs, led the way and ushered her into the smoking room.
“How do you do, John?” she began in the tone of one prepared to defend herself.
“Oh, Agatha, how are you?” said the prince in as harsh a tone as he could assume, and by an effort he restrained the charming smile that the sight of beauty always drew from him, remembering in time that John Stuart rarely smiled, and that beauty was about the last thing in the world to draw a smile from him. ”

“ The earl spoke despondently. “And then such a lot of people know it—Sir Horace, Bletsoe, myself, and this John Stuart. A secret's no secret when three people know it, and that's four—five with yourself.”
Bromide, oh, bromide!” said the prince cheerfully. “If it isn't a secret, it will be a conspiracy of silence. Who is going to gain anything by telling? Sir Horace is the only dangerous person, and he'll get into worse trouble than I shall, if it comes out. ”

“ The prince did not know whether to be disappointed or relieved by her restraint. On the one hand, he had no desire to kiss the sister of an employee under false pretenses; on the other, the lips of Miss Agatha Stuart were manifestly formed for kisses. He kept his brow furrowed by a frown in John Stuart's best manner.
Agatha sat down in an easy-chair and gazed at him earnestly. Then she looked around the room and said:
“You are doing yourself well. Fancy your having grown rich!” ”