“Steady, Blatherwick,” Wolfenden interrupted; “you must not call me names.”
“You are not speaking the truth,” Mr. Blatherwick continued, curbing himself with an effort. “I will not listen to, or—or permit in my presence any aspersion against that young lady!”
Wolfenden shook his head gently.
“Mr. Blatherwick,” he said, “don’t be a fool! You ought to know that I am not the sort of man to make evil remarks about a lady behind her back, unless I knew what I was talking about. I cannot at this moment prove it, but I am morally convinced that Miss Merton came here to-day at the instigation of the person who wrote to you, and that she only refrained from making you some offer because she knew quite well that we were within hearing.”
“I will not listen to another word, Lord Wolfenden,” Mr. Blatherwick declared vigorously. “If you are honest, you are cruelly misjudging that young lady; if not you must know yourself the proper epithet to be applied to the person who defames an innocent girl behind her back! I wish you good afternoon, sir. I shall leave Deringham Hall to-morrow.”
He strode away, and Wolfenden watched him with a faint, regretful smile upon his lips. Then he turned round suddenly; a little trill of soft musical laughter came floating out from a recess in the darkest corner of the hall. Miss Merton was leaning back amongst the cushions of a lounge, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She beckoned Wolfenden to her.
“Quite melodramatic, wasn’t it?” she exclaimed, moving her skirts for him to sit by her side. “Dear little man! Do you know he wants to marry me?”
“What a clever girl you are,” Wolfenden remarked; “really you’d make an admirable wife for him.”
She pouted a little.
“Thank you very much,” she said. “I am not contemplating making any one an admirable wife; matrimony does not attract me at all.”