“But it is no such thing, Miss Henderson,” broke in Lady Dorothea. “We have already given deep umbrage in many quarters—very high quarters, too—by refusals; and a single mistake would be fatal to us.”
“But why need this be a mistake?” cried Captain Martin, peevishly. “The man is an acquaintance of mine,—a friend, if you like to call him so.”
“And who is he?” asked my Lady, with all the solemnity of a judge.
“A person I met at the Cape. We travelled home together—saw a great deal of each other—in fact—I know him as intimately as I do—any officer in my regiment,” said the Captain, blundering and faltering at every second word.
“Oh! then he is one of your own corps?” said her Ladyship.
“I never said so,” broke he in. “If he had been, I don't fancy I should need to employ much solicitation in his behalf; the—they are not usually treated in that fashion!”
“I trust we should know how to recognize their merits,” said Kate, with a look which sorely puzzled him whether it meant conciliation or raillery.
“And his name?” asked my Lady. “His name ought to be decisive, without anything more!”
“He's quite a stranger here, knows nobody, so that you incur no risk as to any impertinent inquiries, and when he leaves this, to-morrow or next day, you 'll never see him again.” This the Captain said with all the confusion of an inexpert man in a weak cause.
“Shall I address his card, or will you take it yourself, Captain Martin?” said Kate, in a low voice.