"Miss Firs-Robinson!" The curate grew crimson. "She—she didn't—-"
"Yes, she did. And a good thing too. Come and speak to her."
"Are you mad?" said Blount. He gathered up his hat and a few other things that had come off during the skirmish—and fled for his life.
CHAPTER XXXI
"Well," said Elfrida angrily, when Mr. Browne got back to her, "you think him very brave, of course, but why did he run away like that? You're a most annoying man, anyway." Elfrida made an irritated movement. "I wasn't thinking of Ambert. He's all right."
"Well, I'm not so sure," said Mr. Browne thoughtfully.
"At all events, I don't care whether he is or not!" said Elfrida, with now undissembled wrath. "What I want to know is why Mr. Blount ran away just now. What was the matter with him? What did he expect?" Elfrida made a petulant gesture, and Agatha said gently,—-
"It was the last thing Mr. Blount would have liked to be led into, but I do not think any one could blame him; I am very sorry about it."
"Well, I'm not," said Dillwyn. "If ever a man got his deserts in this life, it was Ambert. And how he took it, too!" He laughed contemptuously. "Not a blow in return."
Elfrida coloured hotly.