"But what was the subject of it?"
"Oh—well—those thirty-five charming compatriots of Mona's who are now in the House of Commons, or, rather, out of it. It was a little tale that related to their expulsion the other night by the Speaker—and—er—other things."
"If it was a political quip," says Violet, "I shouldn't care about it."
This is fortunate. Every one feels that Nicholas is not only clever, but singularly lucky.
"It wasn't all politics, of course," he says carefully.
Whereupon every one thinks he is a bold and daring man thus to risk fortune again.
It is at this particular moment that Violet, inadvertently raising her head, lets her eyes meet Jack Rodney's. On which that young man—being prompt in action—goes quickly up to her, and in sight of the assembled multitude takes her hand in his.
"Violet, you may as well tell them all now as at any other time," he says, persuasively.
"Oh, no, not now," pleads Violet, hastily. She rises hurriedly from her seat, and lays her disengaged hand on his lips. For once in her life she loses sight of her self-possession, and a blush, warm and rich as carmine, mantles on her cheek.
This fond coloring, suiting the exigencies of the moment suits her likewise. Never before has she looked so entirely pretty. Her lips tremble, her eyes grow pathetic. And Captain Rodney, already deeply in love, grows one degree more impressed with the fact of his own good fortune in having secured so enviable a bride.