“Of course, if Mrs. Wentworth—-” she began.
“I’m very sorry,” said Jack.
Then Miss Queenborough, forgetting—as I hope—or choosing—to disregard my presence, leant forward and asked in her most coaxing tones, “Don’t you ever forget a promise, Mr. Ives?”
Jack looked at her. I suppose her dainty prettiness struck him afresh, for he wavered and hesitated.
“She’s gone upstairs,” pursued the tempter, “and we shall be safe away before she comes down again.”
Jack shuffled with one foot on the gravel.
“I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll ask her if she minds me taking you for a little while before I——”
I believe he really thought that he had hit upon a compromise satisfactory to all parties. If so, lie was speedily undeceived. Trix flushed rod and answered angrily, “Pray don’t trouble. I don’t want to go.”
“Perhaps afterwards you might—” suggested the curate, but now rather timidly.
“I’m going out with Lord Newhaven,” said she. And she added in an access of uncontrollable annoyance, “Go, please go. I—I don’t want you.”