"You are sorry that Mr. Hungerford cannot come to the dance?" inquired the Comte, who seemed already acquainted with the purport of the note.
"Why, of course!" flashed Horatia, out of her burst of indignation. "Are you, then, glad of it, Monsieur?"
"In one sense, yes," replied M. de la Roche-Guyon coolly. "Because now I can ask for the dances of your kinsman as well as for my own."
Miss Grenville saw fit to take no notice of this sentiment, continuing along her own line of thought.
"How like Mr. Dormer! Everything must give way to what Mr. Dormer arranges and wishes. I have no patience with it—I am sure you do not like him either!"
"Mon Dieu, I should think I did not," replied the young man warmly, "considering that he spoilt my evening on Saturday! He might have left us that quarter of an hour in the drawing-room. I could almost believe that he did it on purpose.... No, Mr. Dormer does not amuse me."
"You have seen a good deal of him," said Horatia, restored to good humour, for she discerned a common feeling.
Armand made something of a grimace. "Mr. Hungerford has been kind enough to take me to see him twice. I do not like priests. They know too much."
"But Mr. Dormer is not a priest," returned Horatia, half amused.
"Well, perhaps not, mais il en a l'air, and he needs only the ... what is it, la soutane?—the cassock, yes, and the sash that the delusion should be complete. Besides, he has the book."