“What does she say?” Everitt demanded, with interest.
“Well, she begs me to let you know that they do not want the model again. There is something odd in that, because Kitty was so very keen for him. What is the mystery? Has the man turned out too much of a ruffian, or too little?”
“Judge for yourself,” he said. “I was the ruffian.”
“You!” she exclaimed. “You!”
“The man failed me, and I couldn’t think of any way of escaping your displeasure but by taking the character myself.”
“You went to the Lascelles’ as a model!”
“I did. I begin to believe now that it was a blunder.”
“It was a blunder,” she said, gravely. “It certainly was a blunder.”
He looked at her.
“At least,” he said, eagerly, “you will understand that my motives were very simple.”