“I am sure, sir,” said she, addressing the old man, while she courtesied deeply to the stranger, “that you will forgive my intrusion; but I only this moment learned that you were here writing, and I thought that probably the quiet seclusion of my room would suit you better: may I make bold to offer it to you?”
“Thanks, madam; but, with your leave, this is quite to my taste,” said he, stiffly.
“It is so comfortable, sir, and looks out upon our little garden!” said Polly, coaxingly.
“I am certain, madam, that it has every attraction, and only needs your presence there to be incomparable.”
“Nay, sir,” said she, laughing, “I'll not take your innuendo, save in its flattering sense.”
“I never flatter, madam, for I would n't try to pass on another the base coinage I 'd reject myself. Others, however,” and here he glanced towards the Frenchman, “may not have these scruples; and I am sure the charms of your apartment will be fully appreciated elsewhere.”
Polly blushed deeply, not the less so that the Frenchman's eyes were bent upon her during the delivery of the speech with evident admiration.
“If mademoiselle would permit me, even as a sanctuary—” began the Count.
“Just so, Miss Polly,” broke in Curtis; “let him take refuge there, as he tells you, for he feels very far from at his ease in my company.”
Polly's quick intelligence read in these few words the real state of the case; and, resolved at all hazards to prevent untoward consequences, she made a sign to the Frenchman to follow her, and left the room.