"It is my positive conviction," she declared, with mock seriousness, "that, notwithstanding Mr. Arbuthnot's high-flown repudiation, you two have been quarrelling."
Maud Devereux turned impatiently away, with a scornful shrug of her shoulders, and walked slowly towards the house. Lady Olive started to follow her, but at the gate she paused.
"Mr. Arbuthnot, come here, I want to speak to you."
I retraced my steps, of course, and stood by her side.
"Well?"
She stood on tiptoe and whispered—quite an unnecessary proceeding, for Maud was a dozen yards away.
"Mr. Arbuthnot, what have you and Maud been quarrelling about?"
I turned round so abruptly that our heads knocked together and my moustache brushed her cheek.
"Mr. Arbuthnot!"
"It wasn't my fault," I assured her, truthfully.