"Not that I am aware of."
The disappointment visible on her countenance recalled the incident of the Valentine, and he made haste to add:
"Though now I come to think of it, I found him cutting out an ace of hearts one day last week."
"An ace of hearts?" said Miss Morton very innocently, "why what would he do that for?"
"I asked him as much, and he muttered something about a torn velvet patch. But his behaviour that day was monstrous odd altogether, for I remember I found him later on the bowling green of the Blue Boar picking snowdrops, and when I rallied him, he asked me for a rhyme to 'white.'"
Miss Morton danced for the rest of the evening as though her scarlet heels were little flames.
The hands of the clock were nearing the magick hour of the last Cotillon, and everybody was hurrying in search of partners and places; when the appearance of Gog and Magog, with Mr. Ripple's marble pedestal, warned everybody that the Great little Man was about to make an announcement. Everybody waited with extreme deference and not a whisper disturbed the religious peace. The room was quite still save for the tinkle of jewellery and the slow sighing of the fans.
The Beau ascended his pedestal, calm and majestick while the listeners craned their necks to attention.
"My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. You are doubtless all aware that we have to lament the sudden death of that respected model of fortitude and perseverance, Sir Jeremy Dummer."
A sympathetick murmur floated along the wind of the fans.