"What—the old lady's brother!" he replied.
"He has no sister who is an old lady. I mean Alfred."
"Alfred?" he almost yelped. "Alfred here!"
"Of course he is here. Is not his battalion quartered at Gibraltar? You knew it; we were to meet him here!"
"I didn't, indeed—or I should never have come!" he protested.
"Don't let us waste words now. He is here; he will demand an explanation from you. He has his pistol with him—I could tell by the bulge under his coat. We must both face him; and the question is, What are you going to say?"
Peter thrust his hands through his carefully-parted hair:
"Say?" he repeated. "I shall tell him the simple, straightforward truth. I shall frankly admit that we have walked, and sat, and talked together; but I shall assure him, as I can honestly, that during the whole course of our acquaintance I have never once regarded you in any other light but that of a friend."
"And you suppose that, knowing how I have changed, he will believe that!" she cried. "He will fire long before you can finish one of those fine sentences!"