"I am so sorry, because now you will have to play whist. Look, the vicar is shuffling the cards and looking round for the victims already."
"Shall I hide behind you?" said Leicester, in a low whisper.
"Indeed, no; you shall do your duty!" And, catching the vicar's blinking eyes, she beckoned to him.
"Here is Mr. Leicester for one corner. He doesn't sing or play!"
Leicester looked fierce and nodded at his father.
"You will have enough without me, I think," he said, and the vicar, more nervous than ever, but quite as anxious for his rubber, shuffled over to Mr. Dodson, who, with his benevolent, expressionless face well elevated, was beating time with his first finger to the "Battle."
So the vicar seized upon him, Mrs. Dodson and Mr. Giles, and was soon in his play.
"I've escaped, you see," said Leicester, with his grim smile.
"Only out of one danger into another," said Violet, maliciously. "The 'Battle of Prague' will be fought out directly, and then you will have to go over the large scrapbook of Swiss views and tell Miss Tomson which of the places you have seen."
"Thank you," said Leicester. "If that is a necessary part of the programme I am prepared to perform it without a change of audience. If you will allow me, Miss Mildmay, I'll go over the scrapbook with you."