"Miss Fitzgerald," he said very quietly, as he stood before them, "will you permit me to ask you a question?"
"If it's a proper question to ask, Mr. Stanley."
"It is eminently proper and fitting," he replied, coldly.
"Would you rather that I went?" suggested Lady Isabelle, half rising.
"I would rather you stayed."
"Don't be so dreadfully mysterious, Jimsy!" cried Miss Fitzgerald, with a forced laugh that grated on the ears of both her hearers. "Out with your dreadful question. What is it?"
"It is this," he replied. "Are you Jack Kingsland's wife?"
For a moment there was absolute silence. The Secretary stood looking straight in the face of the Irish girl, without moving a muscle. Lady Isabelle gave a smothered exclamation, and gripped her companion's wrist with all her force, flushing red as she did so. Miss Fitzgerald bit her lip, and stared hard at Stanley for the fraction of a minute; then, breaking into her hard metallic laugh, she cried:
"Why, you foolish boy! What can you be thinking of?"
"You've not answered my question," he replied.