Mauleverer sprang from his seat.
“No, I’m damned if I do!”
A burst of music and a babble of tongues told them that the door had opened again, and some one else was coming in. It was the Marchioness of Severn, and she was alone.
Belle rose from her seat dry-eyed.
“Ah, Miss Yorke, they told me I should find you here. That will do, Gerald. Miss Yorke and I are going to have a little talk. Pray sit down again.”
Belle resumed her seat in silence, with an inward dread of what was in store for her next, while Captain Mauleverer walked off with the hang-dog air of a man who feels he has made a brute of himself.
The marchioness sat down beside her guest.
“I have to thank you for a most delightful evening. You sang most charmingly. I almost wish I hadn’t asked you for that one called ‘Little Willy,’ though. I am so sensitive. You almost made me cry—you did, indeed.”
Belle stole a timid glance at her.
“It is very kind of you to praise me so much. That song of mine has always been a favorite.”