"Did she not speak of it? How strange! Why, I fancied——"
"Miss Chesney," interposes Cyril, "if you have any regard for your personal safety, you will refrain from further speech."
"But why?"—opening her great eyes in affected surprise. "Why may I not tell Sir Guy about it? Poor Miss Bellair! although a stranger to me, I felt most genuine pity for her. Just fancy, Sir Guy, a poor girl alone upon a platform, without a soul to take care of her, what she must have endured, when a young man—apparently a gentleman—walked up to her, and taking advantage of her isolated position, bowed to her, simpered impertinently, and was actually on the very point of addressing her, when fortunately her cousin came up and rescued her from her unhappy situation. Was it not shameful? Now, what do you think that rude young man deserved?"
"Extinction," replies Guy, without hesitation.
"I think so too. Don't you, Lady Chetwoode?"
Lady Chetwoode laughs.
"Now, I shall give my version of the story," says Cyril. "I too was present——"
"And didn't fly to her assistance? Oh, fie!" says Lilian.
"There was once an unhappy young man, who was sent to a station to meet a young woman, without having been told beforehand whether she was like Juno, tall enough to 'snuff the moon,' or whether she was so insignificant as to require a strong binocular to enable you to see her at all."
"I am not insignificant," says Lilian, her indignation getting the better of her judgment.