"I was talking rubbish," Julien asserted. "You see, I was in rather an unfortunate position myself that day, wasn't I? No one likes to feel like a discarded lover. I can understand your chucking Harbord all right, but I can't quite see why it was necessary for you to run away from home to come and stay with a little milliner."
She laughed.
"My dear Julien, you don't know those Harbords! There are hordes of them, countless hordes—mothers and sisters and cousins and aunts. They've besieged the place ever since our engagement was announced. If the merest whisper were to get about among them that I was thinking of backing out, there's nothing they wouldn't do. They'd make the whole place intolerable for me—follow me about in the street, weep in my bedroom, hang around the place morning, noon and night. Besides, mother would be on their side and the whole thing would be impossible."
"I have no doubt," Julien admitted, "that the situation would be a trifle difficult, but to talk about earning your own living—you, Lady Anne—"
"Lady fiddlesticks!" she interrupted. "What a stupid old thing you are,
Julien! You never found out, I suppose, that at heart I am a Bohemian?"
"No, I never did!" he assented vigorously.
"Ah, well," she remarked, "you were too busy flirting with that Carraby woman to discover all my excellent qualities. We mustn't stay here, must we? Are you very busy, or do you want to drive me to my friend's house? Of course, meeting you here will be the end of me if any one sees us. Still, I don't suppose you object to a little scandal, and the more I get the happier I shall be."
"I'll take you anywhere," Julien promised. "You don't mind waiting while I speak to the man whom I have come to meet?"
"Not at all," she replied. "You are sure he won't object?"
"Of course not," Julien assured her. "Kendricks is an awfully good sort."