Lord Quaintree looked with surprise from one to the other, not being able to comprehend what was passing before his eyes. He had never seen Captain Desfrayne, and could not guess why Mrs. Desfrayne should be thus betrayed into so singular a display of emotion. Conscious that probably he might be a little in the way, he yet did not know how to move himself off the stage with his ordinary easy grace.
Mrs. Desfrayne was the first to speak. She exclaimed:
“Paul!”
Captain Desfrayne bowed.
“At your service, madam,” he said, very simply.
“I was not aware——Lord Quaintree, my son—my only son—Captain Desfrayne.”
Lord Quaintree smiled, and held out his hand. He saw that something was amiss, without knowing what.
“I hope to see you presently, Captain Desfrayne,” he said, with his pleasant, urbane manner. “I must show myself up-stairs at once, or my lady will think I have run away.”
He left the room, surmising that the two would greatly prefer being left together. But for very shame’s sake, Paul would have caught him by the sleeve, and detained him as a temporary shield.