"Oh! I don't know!" she exclaimed, with considerable emphasis. "Not yet, of course: there's plenty of time. And I'm so hurried and worried, I can hardly speak! Besides, it's very late. I promised to dine with Mrs. Lushington, and it's nearly eight o'clock now."
Even from a future help-meet, so broad a hint could not be disregarded. The General was forced to put on his gloves and prepare for departure.
"But I shall see you again soon," he pleaded. "Shall you be at the opera—at Mrs. Cramwell's—at Belgrave House?"
"Certainly not at Belgrave House!" she answered impatiently. "I hate a crush; and that woman asks all the casuals in London. It's a regular refuge for the destitute. I'm not going there yet. I may, perhaps, when I'm destitute!"
There was a hard ring in her voice that distressed him, and she perceived it.
"Don't look so wretched," she added kindly. "There are places in the world besides Belgrave Square and Covent Garden. What do you say to Punchestown? It's next week, and I'm sure to be there!"
He turned pale, seeming no whit reassured. "Punchestown," he repeated. "What on earth takes you to Punchestown?"
"Don't you know I've got a horse to run?" she said lightly. "I should like to see it win, and I do not believe they have anything in Ireland half as good as my beautiful Satanella!"
"Is that all?" he asked in a disturbed voice. "It seems such an odd reason for a lady; and it's a long journey, you know, with a horrible crossing at this time of year! Blanche, Miss Douglas, can you not stay away, as—as a favour to me?"
There was an angry flush on her cheek, an angry glitter in her eyes, but she kept her temper bravely, and only said in mocking accents—