“I’ll answer she’ll not object,” said my companion, and again I was half conscious of something unusual in his tone.
“But you might,” said I.
“Not a bit of it. Why should I? We’re not betrothed, you know.”
He answered with a laugh, and pointed, or seemed to point at his twisted lower limbs. “You wouldn’t believe me, would you, if I told you she expects you?” he added.
“Oh, very well,” said I, “if you put it in that way.”
We found Dolly standing under the piazza of Covent Garden market. She made no movement toward us until we were close upon her, and then she greeted us with a shy wriggle and a little blush. She was very daintily dressed, with a fur tippet about her throat, and looked as pretty as a young Hebe.
“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t suppose you would come, too, Mr. Trender.”
“There!” I cried to Duke, with perfect good nature. “I told you I should be in the way.”
“Nonsense!” he said. “Miss Mellison didn’t mean it like that, did you, Dolly?”
“Didn’t I? You see how he answers for me, Mr. Trender?” And she turned half from him with a rosy pout.