“Are you also going to the entrepôt?” he exclaimed, “what can you find to interest you there?—a dirty little smutty place! I am going just to help the ladies over the line, as there is no bridge for crossing.”
“Perhaps I am bent on the same errand,” replied the doctor, “do you give me credit for less gallantry than yourself, Pullen?”
“That’s right, Doctor,” said the Baroness, “and I’ve no doubt you’ll be very useful! My Bobby ain’t any manner of good, and the Baron ’as so many traps to carry that ’e ’asn’t got an arm to spare. I only wish you were coming with us! Why don’t you make up your mind to come over with Captain Pullen the day after to-morrow, and ’ave a little ’oliday?”
“I was not aware that Captain Pullen was going to Brussels, madame! I fancy he will have to get Miss Leyton’s consent first!”
At the mention of Miss Leyton’s name in connection with himself, Ralph Pullen flushed uneasily, and Harriet Brandt turned a look of startled enquiry upon the speaker.
“O! ’ang Miss Leyton!” retorted the Baroness, graphically, “she surely wouldn’t stop Captain Pullen’s fun, just because ’e’s staying with ’is sister-in-law! I should call that very ’ard. You can’t always tie a young man to ’is relations’ apron-strings, Doctor!”
“Not always, madame!” he replied, and dropped the subject.
“You wouldn’t let Miss Leyton or Mrs. Pullen keep you from me!” whispered Harriet, to her cavalier.
“Never!” he answered emphatically.
They had reached the little station by this time, and the porters were calling out vociferously that the train was about to start for Brussels, so that in the hurry of procuring their tickets, and conveying the ladies and the luggage across the cinder-besprinkled line, to where the train stood puffing to be off, there was no more time to exchange sentimentalities, or excite suspicion. The party being safely stowed away in their carriage, Ralph Pullen and Doctor Phillips stood on the wooden platform with their hats off, bowing their farewells.