The man began to mutter something, but she checked him with an imperious “Deliver my message, sir!” And, a scowl settling down on his face, he obeyed.
The stranger had turned round at the sound of her voice, and was eying her so keenly that she was glad to bend over the leaves of a pamphlet lying on the table before her to avoid his scrutiny.
In a very short space of time the man came back, saucier than ever.
“My master really cannot see you to-night, Miss Heriton, so it’s no use your staying. I’m to tell you that he’ll write or come to you in the morning.”
Too angry to trust her voice to reply, Florence instantly quitted the room. As she passed through the door she heard the strange gentleman eagerly demand:
“Who did you say? What did you call that lady?”
The answer was inaudible. But Florence, in passionate anger that her name should be repeated by the lips of the vile pander to his master’s vices, clenched her hands, and wished herself a man, that she might punish his insolence as it merited.
Then a feeling of annoyance at her father’s thoughtlessness in exposing her to such rudeness came across her; but that was quickly forgotten as she recollected how utterly her errand had failed, and the disappointment he would suffer in consequence.
Pausing and retracing her steps, she looked up at the brightly lighted windows, and began to ask herself if she had been sufficiently urgent in her efforts to see the lieutenant. As she thought this, some one came from the house. It was the stranger; and, ashamed to have been seen by any one lingering there, Florence hurried away, nor relaxed her quick pace till, with sinking heart, she entered the dull street where her father was anxiously awaiting her.