“I care,” said Sir Charles angrily. “No sensible person can accuse me of exaggerating my own importance because I value my reputation sufficiently to object to my approval being publicly cited in support of a cause with which I have no sympathy.”
“Perhaps Mr. Trefusis has had nothing to do with it,” said Agatha. “The papers publish whatever they please, don’t they?”
“That’s right, Agatha,” said Jane maliciously. “Don’t let anyone speak ill of him.”
“I am not speaking ill of him,” said Sir Charles, before Agatha could retort. “It is a mere matter of feeling, and I should not have mentioned it had I known the altered relations between him and Miss Wylie.”
“Pray don’t speak of them,” said Agatha. “I have a mind to run away by the next train.”
Sir Charles, to change the subject, suggested a duet.
Meanwhile Erskine, returning through the village from his morning ride, had met Trefusis, and attempted to pass him with a nod. But Trefusis called to him to stop, and he dismounted reluctantly.
“Just a word to say that I am going to be married,” said Trefusis.
“To—?” Erskine could not add Gertrude’s name.
“To one of our friends at the Beeches. Guess to which.”