“Did I not tell you so, Mr. Skeptic?” laughed the colonel. “Lady Elaine has carried all hearts by storm from the hour she was launched upon society. She has had a score of lovers.”
Sir Harold sighed and echoed: “A score of lovers!”
“Yes; all hearts that beat in manly bosoms pay homage to the most beautiful girl in England. But she has come scathless out of the ordeal, and is free as air after two seasons.”
“I am glad of it,” replied Sir Harold; and Colonel Greyson smiled, meaningly.
“Why should you be glad?” he said. “Why should you be glad? A confirmed woman-hater! Beware, Sir Harold!”
The young baronet blushed.
“I am not ashamed to tell you, old friend, that with me it is love at first sight. I have never loved before; I have never breathed words of love into any woman’s ear. At last I have met my fate.”
“Go in and win, my boy. You are worthy of any woman,” the colonel said; then he looked away, adding, “this pleasure is only tempered with one regret.”
“One regret, colonel? I do not understand you. Be frank with me, as you have ever been, my more than father.”
“Boy, are you not aware that your cousin Margaret loves you? I believe that she has worshiped you from her very childhood.”