“It may not be. I have passed my word.”
“Passed your word?”
“Yes!”
“To meet Gerome Chanet. Is it not so?”
Lord Ethalwood started back in surprise.
“What could possibly have put that in your head?” he ejaculated.
“It matters not how it came into my head. I feel too well assured that such is the case. Oh, my lord, avoid that man; have naught to say to him, and, above all, do not give him a meeting.”
“I will bear in mind what you have said. I like him not; but at the same time, my dear Theresa, you must permit me to be master of my own actions.”
“I saw a boy deliver a letter to you yesterday at the garden gate. I judged who it was from—Gerome Chanet—and judged also its purport. He would speak to you. Is that not so?”
“Assuming it is, what of that? I am not afraid of Gerome Chanet.”