"Course not. But there, you see, my aunt expected me to write, and I have written."
"You needn't have made me the subject-matter of your letter."
"Who said that I did?" asked Prelice, growing scarlet.
"Lady Sophia herself. I received a note from her this morning, and, considering my position, a very kind note. It seems that you wrote asking her to stand by me, and she has come to Folkstone to do so."
"Loud cheers!" cried Prelice shamelessly. "I always thought that Aunt Sophia was a brick. She never believed you were guilty, you know," he went on confusedly; "said all manner of nice things about you to me whenever we met. Now she'll take you under her wing, and make things hot for any Society fool that dares to say a word against you."
"Why do you do this for me, Lord Prelice?" asked Mona in rather a faltering tone, and averting her too-speaking face.
"I am—that is—well—Ned's friend, you know."
"Oh," Mona's voice became steady, and she turned to look at him squarely, "so you enlist your aunt on my behalf for Ned's sake."
Was there ever such a perplexing girl! A moment ago and she seemed pleased at being championed by Lady Sophia, now her looks and her voice were cold. Prelice, in sheer desperation, blurted out the truth in a blundering manner. "A little bit for my own sake also."
"I am glad of that."