"Oh dear, oh dear!" sighed Mr. Stafford, in a fresh fit, "ha, ha! By the way, Verney, weren't you also to have walked with the jealous husband this morning!—Ah, by the same token, and you too, Spicer? Gad. I'm glad you didn't, for if either of you had put lead in him I'd have missed the best joke of the season. Gad, I may say so. He, he, aha-ha, ho, ho!"
"Mr. Stafford," said my Lord Verney, as solemn as any owl, while Mistress Kitty, caught by the infection of the genial Stafford's mirth, tittered upon his arm, "I have deeper reason than you think of to rejoice that the absurd misunderstanding was cleared up between Sir Jasper and myself. This lady and I——"
"Oh dear, the joke, the joke!" cried Mistress Bellairs, with loud impatience, and stamped her little foot.
"Oh, my fair Bellairs," gasped Mr. Stafford, "had you but been there to share it with me!"
"This lady——" quoth Lord Verney.
"I wish indeed I had been!" cried she. And in very truth she did.
"Mrs. Bellairs," said the determined lover, "has consented to make me the happiest of men."
"Eh?" cried Mr. Stafford, and stopped on the edge of another guffaw.
Mistress Kitty cast down her eyelids. She felt she looked demure and almost bashful, and she hated herself in this character.
Mr. Stafford was one of the thirty-seven lovers of whom the lady had spoken so confidently, and as such was far from realising the solemn meaning of Lord Verney's announcement.