For some reason Carson took this for a fresh affront, and it was more than he could put up with. All his easily-lighted fires were ablaze now, and the reflection of them could be seen in his eyes. He gave her one fierce look, then turned away without a word. Abinger stood grinning. But the lilac eyes filled with tears, and the scarlet mouth went down at the corners like a child's.
"Oh, you mustn't mind Carson," said Abinger easily. "You see, he has unfortunately got a real Irish monkey for sale."
"An Irish monkey?"
"Yes. Have you never heard of the species? Carson's is quite famous. It used to be a source of revenue to the Transvaal and Rhodesia for years—they thought nothing of giving him fifty pounds for letting it out on the spree."
Her tears had slipped back unused to whence they came; she was now dry-eyed and rather haughty.
"How could I know?" she began stiffly.
Abinger apparently thought it not wholly out of place to deliver her a short lecture on the undesirability of hurting people's feelings, together with the information that Carson, though hot-tempered and rather mad, was one of the finest gentlemen in the world and happened to share the misfortune of his nationality with a few of the most charming people in South Africa, not excluding their pleasant hostess—Mrs. Portal.
By the time he had finished his remarks Miss Chard had regained her tranquillity.
"Thank you," said she sweetly. "I think it very nice and friendly of you to tell me all these things. I suppose you are an Irishman, too?"
Some emotion kept Abinger dumb for several seconds; then under her tranquil gaze he recovered himself.