“Then I had better run away to save my neck,” I said, laughing over my shoulder as I opened the door and ran up the stairs, and I peeped at him from the landing above. He had come out into the hall. “Good-bye,” I called, and without waiting to see Lady Ver he tramped down the stairs and away.
“Evangeline, what have you been doing?” she asked, when I got into her room, where her maid was settling her veil before the glass, and trembling over it—Lady Ver is sometimes fractious with her, worse than I am with Véronique, far.
“Evangeline, you look naughtier than ever; confess at once.”
“I have been as good as gold,” I said.
“Then why are those two emeralds sparkling so, may one ask?”
“They are sparkling with conscious virtue,” I said, demurely.
“You have quarrelled with Mr. Carruthers. Go away, Welby! Stupid woman, can’t you see it catches my nose?”
Welby retired meekly (after she is cross Lady Ver sends Welby to the theatre—Welby adores her).
“Evangeline, how dare you! I see it all. I gathered bits from Robert. You have quarrelled with the very man you must marry!”