Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story

Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it, followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke. “No,” said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, “they are real pearls.” “It isn’t that,” she quavered, “it is--it is--” “That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?” “Oh, they were, were they? Then”--Katie rose, throwing the pearls on the floor--“I’ll have nothing to do with them. I hate her.” “So do I,” said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. “No, I don’t,” he added hastily. “Please forget that I said that.” It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that the pearls should pass to her. She picked them up. “Only--only--” again her doubts beset her and she looked from the pearls to the Duke. “Speak on,” he said. “Oh you aren’t playing with me, are you? You don’t mean me harm, do you? I have been well brought up. I have been warned against things. And it seems so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and I--I am only--” “It is the privilege of nobility to condescend.” “Yes, yes,” she cried. “I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And love levels all, doesn’t it? love and the Board school. Our stations are far apart, but I’ve been educated far above mine. I’ve learnt more than most real ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was only just fourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the school. And I’ve gone on learning since then,” she continued eagerly. “I utilise all my spare moments. I’ve read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I collect ferns. I play the piano, whenever...” She broke off, for she remembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing of the Duke’s bell and a polite request that it should cease.