“What am I to do, Katherine?” he said, presently; “that confounded fellow Campion has thrown me over for next week, and he is my best gun: at short notice like this, it’s impossible to replace him with the same class of shot.”
“Yes, dear,” said Lady Katherine, in that kind of voice that has not heard the question—she was deep in her own letters.
“Katherine!” roared Mr. Montgomerie. “Will you listen when I speak—Bur-r-r-r!” and he thumped his fist on the table.
Poor Lady Katherine almost jumped, and the china rattled.
“Forgive me, Anderson,” she said, humbly, “you were saying?”
“Campion has thrown me over,” glared Mr. Montgomerie.
“Then I have perhaps the very thing for you,” Lady Katherine said, in a relieved way, returning to her letters. “Sophia Merrenden writes this morning, and among other things tells me of her nephew, Lord Robert Vavasour—you know, Torquilstone’s half-brother. She says he is the most charming young man, and a wonderful shot—she even suggests” (looking back a page), “that he might be useful to us, if we are short of a gun.”
“Damned kind of her,” growled Mr. Montgomerie.
I hope they did not notice, but I had suddenly such a thrill of pleasure that I am sure my cheeks got red. I felt frightfully excited to hear what was going to happen.