Mr. Ferrers’ brow immediately clouded.
‘Now, do not look so suspicious,’ said Miss Ponsonby. ‘Do you think that ours is an Italian banquet? Is there poison in the dish? Or do you live only on fruit and flowers?’ continued Miss Ponsonby. ‘Do you know,’ she added, with an arch smile, ‘I think you must be a ghoul.’
A sort of smile struggled with a scowl over the haughty countenance of the Englishman.
‘You will come!’ said Miss Ponsonby, most winningly.
‘I have already trespassed too much upon Major Ponsonby’s hospitality,’ muttered Mr. Ferrers; ‘I have no claim to it.’
‘You are our countryman.’
‘Unknown.’
‘The common consequence of being a traveller.’
‘Yes—but—in short—I—’
‘You must come,’ said Miss Ponsonby, with a glance like sunshine.