In this second cave, when Mrs. Norton was putting an appropriate prehistoric question I'd coached her up to ask her brother, I linked a friendly arm in Ellaline's, and bore her off under convoy.
"What a sweet, illuminated stalactite curtain!" said I, rapturously. "Doesn't it look like translucent coral, and wouldn't you like to have a dress exactly that colour?"
Thus I managed to keep her with me, and fall behind the others, glaring at Dick so meaningly as to frighten him away when he showed signs of lingering.
My scene thus effectively set, and the two leading characters on the stage together, I lost no time in beginning to recite my lines. It was in a dark sort of rock-parlour, with some kind of an illuminated witches' kitchen or devil's cauldron to look at, and give us an excuse to pause—all very effective.
"Miss Lethbridge," I said, "I have rather a disagreeable duty to perform."
"When people tell you they have a duty to perform, it goes without saying that it's disagreeable," she replied, with a flippancy on which I consider I have the patent.
"Have I a black on my nose, or is my dress undone at the back?"
"There is a black," said I, "but it's not on your nose."
"On my character, perhaps?" she insinuated.
"Not exactly," said I. "But it will be on my conscience if I don't get it off. You see, you ought to know. If you don't know, you're handicapped, and it isn't fair that a girl like you should be handicapped. I've been trying for days to screw up my courage to speak. In this queer place, I feel suddenly as if I could. Shall we talk here, while we have the chance?"