“That’s right,” said Jack. “It was all my fault. I’d been—been to see a favorite aunt.”
“You had been to your club,” said Lady Bell.
“How did you know that?” he said.
Lady Bell smiled again, and Jack, his eyes fixed upon her, thought the smile wonderfully fascinating.
“A little bird told me,” she said.
“The little bird was right,” said Jack, shaking his head, with penitence and remorse written on every feature. “I have been dining at my club. Perhaps the little bird told you everything else?”
“Yes; the little bird also whispered that you had——”
“Drank too much champagne? Confound those fellows! Wonderful little bird!” muttered Jack.
“It is very wicked of you,” said Lady Bell, gravely, her eyes fixed on his face, that, notwithstanding its streak of red, looked wonderfully handsome.
While she looked, she almost convinced herself that she had never seen such a handsome face, nor such frank eyes.