Having almost reached the door, he came back to say wistfully:
“Do you forgive me for disobeying you, Lady Gwendolyn?”
“No,” she answered shortly and sternly; for she was given to these Protean changes of mood. “You have not told me your secret.”
“Why will you harp upon that miserable subject? I do not question you upon your past.”
“You have no right,” she said haughtily.
A sudden glow crept into his face; his eyes shone with triumph.
“You think that you have a right to know mine, then, Lady Gwendolyn?”
She saw then what inference she had favored, and grew crimson to the very roots of her hair under his searching, impassioned gaze. Amazed at her own embarrassment, she answered petulantly:
“I wish you would let me rest, Colonel Dacre. I might as well have had Mrs. Whittaker if you were going to gossip like this.”
“I beg your pardon,” he answered, with a formal bow; “I forget that I might be boring you. What message shall I give Lady Teignmouth from you?”