"I see what I get out of this, Lady Jenny. Now what do you?"
"I knew you'd ask that. Of course I'm never disinterested!"
"I won't ask. I'll take the gift Heaven sends!"
"I daren't leave it like that. You're too conscientious; you'd stay at home and work. I'm afraid I must give you the reason."
Her thoughts had passed away, it seemed, from the difficulty which had made her now irritable, now melancholy, while we talked about reasoning and being "driven." She was gay and chaffed me with enjoyment. If there were any perplexity in the case here, evidently it struck her as a comedy, complicated by no threat of a tragic catastrophe. Her lips twitched with merriment.
"Yes, you must have it—and really plain English this time—no fencing—the downright blunt truth!"
"I wait for it."
"Lord Lacey comes home on leave to-morrow."
The explanation here was certainly plain. In fact it was both plain and pregnant. While it confessed to a flirtation in the past, it also admitted a project for the future.
"I must ride as often as possible," I said gravely. "Does he stay long?"