“I thought so; you are paler than you was, and I suppose that’s the reason I did not recollect you sooner.”
“Has not your Lordship too much gallantry,” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “to discover a young lady’s illness by her looks?”
“The devil a word can I speak for that woman,” said he, in a low voice; “do, prithee, Jack, take her in hand.”
“Excuse me, my Lord,” answered Mr. Coverley.
“When shall I see you again?” continued his Lordship; “do you go to the pump-room every morning?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Do you ride out?”
“No, my Lord.”
Just then we arrived at the pump-room, and an end was put to our conversation, if it is not an abuse of words to give such a term to a string of rude questions and free compliments.
He had not opportunity to say much more to me, as Mrs. Selwyn joined a large party, and I walked home between two ladies. He had, however, the curiosity to see us to the door.