"Lady Letitia," he began impulsively—
She turned upon him as though surprised.
"Pray do not trouble to escort me home," she begged.
"It isn't that," he went on, falling into step by her side. "You make me feel like a thief."
"Are you not a thief?" she asked. "I have been told that nearly all very rich men are thieves. I begin to understand that it may be so."
"It is possible to juggle with money honestly," he assured her.
"It is also possible, I suppose," she observed, with faint sarcasm, "to lower the standard of honesty. Thank you," she added, as she passed through the second gate, "you perhaps did not understand me. I should prefer to return alone."
"I am going your way," he insisted desperately.
"My way?" she repeated. "But there is nowhere to go to, unless you are proposing to honour us with a call at Mandeleys."
"I am going in to see old Richard Vont," he said.