“By what right do you ask such a question which cannot concern you?”
“That is my affair; and you need not make such a mystery about it, because I know who you are. Your name is Cooke—Aubrey Cooke!”
“Well, what then?”
“What then? Why, my name is Harold Braithwaite!”
But this announcement produced none of the effect he evidently expected. The pale, ugly young man still returned his look quite steadily, without expressing any sort of emotion.
“I dare say it is,” said he, simply—“why not?”
“Look here,” said the stranger, dropping his voice till it became a growl of passion. “I don’t want a scene here. You had better go.”
But Aubrey stood his ground very calmly.
“I am no more anxious for a scene than you are, I assure you. But, as you are a complete stranger to me, and can produce no authority for dismissing me, I must decline to move until I have given you a little piece of advice. Don’t venture to dismiss a lady’s friends without her authority——”
“I don’t use her authority; I use my own.”