"In literary pursuits with Lieutenant Kingsland," he said, finishing her sentence for her, at which termination her Ladyship flushed, and the Secretary felt that in the first round at least he had given as good as he had received.
"But I want you to understand the reason of my coming," he said, leading her to a seat in a little alcove. "I feel that I owe you some explanation."
"I don't see why you should," she replied coldly. "I'm sure you have a perfect right to do one thing and say another without consulting me."
Lady Isabelle was nettled, for she felt he had trifled with the serious side of her nature. She had offered him good advice which he had pretended to accept, and straightway her back was turned, he had unblushingly belied his words.
"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I shouldn't have presumed to suppose that you could have felt any real interest in my affairs."
"Oh, but I do," she replied, somewhat mollified. "A deep interest, the interest of a friend."
She made it a point to qualify any statement that might be open to possible misconstruction.
"I see I shall have to throw myself on your mercy, and tell you the whole truth," said Stanley, which he proceeded not to do. "I intended to write a letter."
"It isn't necessary. I would accept your word——"
"But you'd still have a lingering suspicion of me in your heart. As I was saying—I intended to write to Mrs. Roberts, declining her invitation, and forgot to do so till this morning, and then I made a virtue of necessity, and as it was too late to refuse, telegraphed my hour of arrival."