"Well, I don't suppose I would have been of much use without the brandy," replies he, coolly.
"It must have been quite a sentimental scene," remarks her ladyship, with a little laugh. "It reminds one of something one would read; only, to make it perfect, you should be lovers. Now that you are safe it does not seem unkind to laugh, does it?"
Marmaduke by this time is black as night. In spite of myself, I know I have blushed crimson; while Sir Mark, turning abruptly away, goes to explain some trivial break in the harness to one of the coachmen.
"It is a pity, Phyllis, you would not take my advice this morning," says 'Duke, in a voice that trembles a little, either from suppressed anger or some other emotion. "If you had taken a groom, as I begged of you, all this unpleasantness might have been saved."
"I don't see how a groom could have prevented it," I reply, coldly. "Without a second's warning they were off: it was nobody's fault."
"My dear 'Duke, we should be thankful they have escaped so well," murmurs Blanche, in her softest tones, laying a soothing touch upon my husband's arm. Both touch and tone render me furious. "I dare say it was not very serious."
"I dare say not; but it might have been. And, whether or not it has kept every one waiting for at least three-quarters of an hour."
"It might have kept you still longer had I been killed," I return, quietly, moving away in secret indignation.
Marmaduke follows me, leaving Blanche and Sir Mark to come after, and side by side, but speechless, we proceed on our way.
At length, in a rather milder tone, Marmaduke says, "I hope—otherwise—your drive was enjoyable."