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 the hope of finding out the nature of your interest.&quot;

Miss Verney shot a glance at her, and drew away in a soft subsidence of undulating furs.

&quot;Is this an embassy?&quot; she asked smiling.

&quot;No: not in any sense.&quot;

The girl leaned back with an air of relief. &quot;I'm glad; I should have disliked—&quot; She looked again at Mrs. Peyton. &quot;You want to know what I mean to do?&quot;

&quot;Yes.&quot;

&quot;Then I can only answer that I mean to wait and see what he does.&quot;

&quot;You mean that everything is contingent on his success?&quot;

&quot;I am—if I'm everything,&quot; she admitted gaily.

The mother's heart was beating in her throat, and her words seemed to force themselves out through the throbs.

&quot;I—I don't quite see why you attach