Eminence on Sunday,’ said Friga, ‘but this is not a visit of ceremony; we wanted to find you at home. You know my friend Lesbia Newman—rather too well, perhaps—it is she who persuaded me to invade you like this.’
‘As an influential pioneer of the new dispensation, I suppose,’ said the cardinal, coming forward with extended hand, and a smile upon his careworn face, which was paler than when our heroine last saw him.
‘Not influential, Cardinal Power; I wish I were; I should know how to exert my influence.’
‘Because the most important way she could exert it just now, would be over your Eminence,’ said Lesbia.
‘I know you think so, Miss Newman,’ replied the cardinal. ‘But first and foremost, let me give you some tea. And where is Mr Bristley? Not unwell, I hope?’
‘No, my uncle is quite well, thanks, Cardinal Power; but he is not in town. We two came up together on purpose to see you, and with his knowledge.’
‘From which it is not difficult to surmise the object of your visit,’ said the cardinal. ‘Do you know, I was just thinking of you when the man brought in your card. But seeing Lady Friga with you is quite an unexpected pleasure.’
‘Thinking of me! And, pray, what were you thinking about me, Cardinal Power?’ asked Lesbia, looking at him straight and searchingly.
The cardinal saw the imprudence of his confession; but there was no receding.
‘I was—balancing the—pros and cons.’
‘Of what?’
‘Why, of the—the whole question, in fact.’
‘Then I think,’ said Lesbia, laughing, ‘that it is a pity there is not a fourth person present to assist the rise and fall of your Eminence’s scales. I don’t mean my uncle; I refer to a lady. Need I name her?’
