“Go to the demon with your lovely Mrs. Lyon!” burst out the sorely tried Alick.
“With great pleasure, or anywhere else in the universe with her. But, hark you, my lord! I am not accustomed to receive such answers from gentlemen; and by my life, sir——”
But Alexander had turned on his heel and walked off again, leaving the last speaker in the middle of his speech.
Alick, in his utter wretchedness, was behaving very much like a brute. He had already insulted one gentleman and affronted another. He was sure of being called out by young Hepsworth of the dragoons, and he was strongly inclined to call out some half dozen other gentlemen who had been guilty of dancing with Drusilla and delighting in the honor.
He passed on, growling inward curses, and so for some moments lost sight of his young wife.
When he saw her next, she was seated in the bay window, with her court of worshipers around her. She alone occupied the sofa.
General Lyon was standing at some distance with a group of old friends that he had been so fortunate as to collect together.
Anna was waltzing with Henry Spencer.
Dick was waltzing with Nanny Seymour.
Drusilla never waltzed, and therefore for the time she was sitting alone on the sofa with her court standing around her.