“I have made myself a champion of my sex,” he said. “Shall I be beaten?”
In that moment—with all the pang of forsaking an old conviction—of disowning that stronger tie, the loved embrace of an ancient and perversely championed prejudice—he declared that any price must be paid for victory.
“Heaven forgive me, but, sooner than be beaten, I’ll go to law with her!” he cried.
A face appeared from between two bushes—a voice spoke from the edge of the terrace.
“I thought you might be interested to hear——”
“Lady Norah?”
“Yes, it’s me—to hear that you’ve made her cry—and very bitterly.”
CHAPTER XI
AN ARMISTICE
LORD LYNBOROUGH walked down to the edge of the terrace; Lady Norah stood half hidden in the shrubbery.
“And that, I suppose, ought to end the matter?” he asked. “I ought at once to abandon all my pretensions and to give up my path?”