“You have no right to ask.”—“That,” said Patty to herself, “is an ordinary incivility, but I can’t help it!”
“I have a right to ask! And I don’t care whether I have or not. You’re a mischief, and I won’t stand any more of your chaff. Who made you promise not to speak to me, or look at me?”
The Earl, quietly, but with a decided air, moved around until he faced Patty, and the laughing blue eyes were so full of fun that he laughed too.
“You ridiculous baby!” he cried; “what are you, anyway? One night, a charming young woman, the next day, a naughty child.”
“I’m not naughty! Nobody made me promise. I did it of my own free will.”
“But whom did you promise?”
“Lady Hamilton,” said Patty, remembering all at once that the matter was to be referred to her.
“Oho! Well, now, see here. You just break that promise, as quick as you can, and I’ll make it square with Lady Hamilton.”
“Will you?” said Patty, drawing a long sigh of relief. “And will you blot out last evening, and pretend it never was, and begin our acquaintance from now?”
“I will,” said the Earl, looking at her, curiously, “if you will tell me why you seem to have a dual personality.”