'Well,' answered the American, taking plenty of time over the monosyllable, 'I didn't exactly mean to stay there more than a few minutes. I've bought a pretty nice yacht since I saw you, and she's there, eating her head off, and I thought you might all come along with me on her and go home that way, or somewhere.'
'I had no idea you had a yacht!' Lady Maud smiled. 'What it is to have the Bank of England in [{287}] your pocket! Where did you get her, and what is her name? I love yachts!'
Van Torp explained.
'I forget what she was called,' he said in conclusion, 'but I changed her name. It's Lancashire Lass now.'
'The dear old mare you rode that night! How nice of you! It's a horse's name, of course, but that doesn't matter. I'm so glad you chose it. I shall never forget how you looked when you galloped off bareback in your evening clothes with no hat!'
'I don't know how I looked,' said Van Torp gravely. 'But I know quite well how I felt. I felt in a hurry. Now, what I want you to decide right away is whether you'll come, provided they will—for I don't suppose you and I could go mooning around in the yacht by ourselves.'
'And I don't suppose,' returned Lady Maud, mimicking him ever so little, 'that if "they" decide not to come, you will have time for a long cruise.'
'Now that's not fair,' objected the American. 'I didn't intend to put it in that way. Anyhow, will you come if they do? That's the point.'
'Really, it depends a little on who "they" are. Do you mean only Margaret and that nice old friend of hers—Mrs. Patmore, isn't she? I never met her.'
'Rushmore,' said Van Torp, correcting her.