"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. All the same, you shan't spoil her life."
Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her life. She's my cousin, if you remember----"
"Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you call yourself."
"I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your nerves."
"My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and control a savage stallion like White Robin."
"That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the temper of a fiend."
"So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry."
"You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette."
"I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not take things thrown to me as if I were a dog."
Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?"