DUCHESS.

[_Intensely, in a low voice._] Harry, do you remember a particular
evening at Stockholm?

QUEX.

[_Hazily._] Stockholm?

DUCHESS.

That evening upon which we discovered how much our society meant to each
other!

QUEX.

[_Vaguely, while he hastily recovers possession of his hand._] At
Stockholm was it--?

DUCHESS.

You were sailing with us in the Baltic--you must recollect? Our yacht
had put in at Stockholm; we had come to the Grand Hotel. Strood had
retired, and you and I were sitting out upon the balcony watching the
lights of the café on the Norrbro and the tiny steamboats that stole to
and fro across the harbour. Surely you recollect?

QUEX.

Yes, yes, of course.