"The McRorys don't speak English!" said Lady Knox, in a voice like a north-east wind.
"Seulement très petit!" Philippa murmured brazenly.
Whether Lady Knox heard her or not, I am unable to say. Her face was averted from me, and remained as inflexible as a profile on a coin—a Roman coin, for choice.
The faculty of not knowing when you are beaten is one that has, I think, been lauded beyond its deserving. Napoleon the Great has condemned manoeuvring before a fixed position, and Lady Knox was clearly a fixed position. Accepting these tenets, I began an unostentatious retirement, in which I was joined by Philippa. We were nearing safety and the gate of the field, when a yearning, choking wail came to us from the lane.
"The Bride?" queried my wife hysterically.
It was repeated; in the same instant my admirers, the jackasses, mère et fils, advanced upon the scene at a delirious gallop, and, sobbing with the ecstasy of reunion, resumed their attendance upon Daniel.
For a moment the attention of the field, including even that of the Roman coin, was diverted from the Comte de Pralines, and was concentrated upon our retreat.
XI
THE SHOOTING OF SHINROE