It had the result of stifling Lynborough's softer mood, of reviving his pugnacity. "She must do more than that, if she's to win!" said he.
Chapter Eight
THE MARCHESA MOVES
After her demonstration against Scarsmoor Castle, the Marchesa went in to lunch. But there were objects of her wrath nearer home also. She received Norah's salute—they had not met before, that morning—with icy coldness.
"I'm better, thank you," she said, "but you must be feeling tired—having been up so very early in the morning! And you—Violet—have you been over to Scarsmoor again?"
Violet had heard from Norah all about the latter's morning adventure. They exchanged uneasy glances. Yet they were prepared to back one another up. The men looked more frightened; men are frightened when women quarrel.
"One of you," continued the Marchesa accusingly, "pursues Lord Lynborough to his own threshold—the other flirts with him in my own meadow! Rather peculiar signs of friendship for me under the present circumstances—don't you think so, Colonel Wenman?"
The Colonel thought so—though he would have greatly preferred to be at liberty to entertain—or at least to express—no opinion on so thorny a point.
"Flirt with him? What do you mean?" But Norah's protest lacked the ring of honest indignation.