“How do you know that? You were in bed.”
“Carlotta saw you from her window. You don’t deny it?”
“No, I don’t,” said Norah, perceiving the uselessness of such a course. “In fact, I glory in it. I had a splendid time with Lord Lynborough. Oh, I did try to keep him out for you—but he jumped over my head.”
Sensation among the gentlemen! Increased scorn on the Marchesa’s face!
“And when I got John Goodenough to help me, he just laid John down on the grass as—as I lay that spoon on the table! He’s splendid, Helena!”
“He seems a good sort of chap,” said Irons thoughtfully.
The Marchesa looked at Wenman.
“Nothing to be said for the fellow, nothing at all,” declared the Colonel hastily.
“Thank you, Colonel Wenman. I’m glad I have one friend left anyhow. Oh, besides you, Mr Stillford, of course. Oh, and you, dear old Jennie, of course. You wouldn’t forsake me, would you?”
The tone of affection was calculated to gratify Miss Gilletson. But against it had to be set the curious and amused gaze of Norah and Violet. Seen by these two ladies in the act of descending from a stylish (and coroneted) victoria in the drive of Nab Grange, Miss Gilletson had, pardonably perhaps, broken down rather severely in cross-examination. She had been so very proud of the roses—so very full of Lord Lynborough’s graces! She was conscious now that the pair held her in their hands and were demanding courage from her.