"Well?" says Violet, who is smiling, and seems to see a joke where Mona fails to see anything amusing.
"When he was tired of staring, he said, 'I suppose I am speaking to——' and then he stopped. 'Mrs. Rodney,' replied I; and then he raised his hat, and bowed, and gave me his card. After that he mounted again, and rode away."
"But who was this gentleman?" says Lady Rodney, superciliously. "No doubt some draper from the town."
"No; he was not a draper," says Mona, gently, and without haste.
"Whoever he was, he hardly excelled in breeding," says Lady Rodney; "to ask your name without an introduction! I never heard of such a thing. Very execrable form, indeed. In your place I should not have given it. And to manage his horse so badly that he nearly ran you down. He could hardly be any one we know. Some petty squire, no doubt."
"No; not a petty squire," says Mona; "and I think you do know him. And why should I be ashamed to tell my name to any one?"
"The question was strictly in bad taste," says Lady Rodney again. "No well-bred man would ask it. I can hardly believe I know him. He must have been some impossible person."
"He was the Duke of Lauderdale," says Mona, simply. "Here is his card."
A pause.
Lady Rodney is plainly disconcerted, but says nothing. Violet follows suit, but more because she is thoroughly amused and on the point of laughter, than from a desire to make matters worse.