“Because he chucked your men into the river?” asked Penelope sweetly.
“She's dooced pretty, eh?” whispered the duke to Mrs. De Peyton without taking his eyes from his young countrywoman's face.
“Who?” asked Mrs. De Peyton. Then he relinquished his gaze and turned his monocle blankly upon the American beside him.
“I shall send him a warning that he'll have to respect, cad or no cad,” said Bazel-hurst, absently spreading butter upon his fingers instead of the roll.
“Send him a warning?” asked his queenly wife. “Aren't you going to see him personally? You can't trust the servants, it seems.”
“My dear, I can't afford to lose my temper and engage in a row with that bounder, and there's no end of trouble I might get into—”
“I shall see him myself, if you won't,” said her ladyship firmly. There was frigid silence at the table for a full minute, relieved only when his lordship's monocle dropped into the glass of water he was trying to convey to his lips. He thought best to treat the subject lightly, so he laughed in his most jovial way.
“You'd better take a mackintosh with you, my dear,” he said. “Remember what he told Tompkins and James.”
“He will not throw me into the river. It might be different if you went. Therefore I think—”
“Throw me in, would he?” and Bazel-hurst laughed loudly. “I 'm no groom, my dear. You forget that it possible for Mr. Shaw to be soused.”