Gibson let her fall from his embrace like a stone. He sprang back a man's length.
"Oh yes, of course," he said mockingly, when he had found his breath. "Lord Ruddington, alias the King of Spain, alias the Emperor of Russia! Of course!"
"Honour bright, it's true!" said Susan indignantly. "If it isn't, may I be struck down dead. His lordship fell over his head in love with me in Traxelby church."
"Susie, this is true?" he demanded, striding up to her and speaking fiercely. "This is true?"
"Don't go on silly," said Susan.
Gibson leaned against a tree and thought for some time. At last he straightened himself up, and said, in low excited tones:
"Look here, Susie, this makes a difference. You don't think I'm going to help you miss a chance like that? Haven't I always said you're fit to be a duchess? No, Susie, it isn't good enough. D'ye think I'm going to let you throw yourself away on a poor thirty-bob-a-week devil like me?"
"Oh don't, Tom, don't!" she pleaded, clinging to him again. "Don't! or you'll make me change my mind."
"There isn't a finer gentleman in all England nor Lord Ruddington," said Gibson.
"Oh don't!" wailed Susan again.