Peter Muir felt distinctly injured by her calm.
"So do I, and I was wondering if----"
She stopped him with a gesture of her hand, which sent all his conventional decorum to the right-about, and left him, a man, before her a woman--left him, instead of an elaborate detective, a reluctant admirer.
"Mr. Peter," she said, smiling, "don't wonder! It is very kind of you to come and tell me the truth--kind also to try and find me out; but, believe me, I do not stand in your brother's way. It is two years since Major Muir first brought you here to me, a milliner living by her work only. All that while he and I have been good friends--nothing more. I had no claim to be anything else. Does that satisfy you?"
Peter Muir held out a hot, damp, but enthusiastic hand to meet her cool, wholesome one.
"I'm not quite sure if it does," he said, in a manner suddenly and to her painfully reminiscent of Marmaduke. "You've been a good sight more to him than any friend has been to me, worse luck! Perhaps if I had had someone like you in a peaceful little room like this--but Marmaduke always had the devil's own luck. However, you are not angry, are you? Only I thought it right to put you up to the ropes in case----"
"There is no in case about it," she interrupted quickly. "I--I make no claim." She rose, passed to the window, and looked out. "Has Lord Drummuir any--any special selection for his future daughter-in-law?" she asked, and the young man at the fireplace jiggled the seals in his pocket amusedly.
He knew a thing or two, he imagined, about women.
"Not so far as I am aware of, at present," he replied, negligently; "but the consent is a trifle urgent, for the colonelcy will be going ere long. He ought to make up his mind soon and come with me to a roaring New Year at the Castle--it's always a bachelor party--and it may be his last chance. So, if you could say a word or two--you have more influence over Marmaduke----"
She flashed round suddenly.