The scene before him altered Harry Vine’s ideas, and sent the blood surging up to his brain.
He stepped right up to Madelaine, giving Leslie a furious glance as that gentleman turned, and without the slightest preface, exclaimed—
“Look here, Madelaine, it’s time you were at home. Come along with me.”
Madelaine flushed as she rose; and her lips parted as if to speak, but Leslie interposed.
“Excuse me, Miss Van Heldre, I do not think you need reply to such a remark as that.”
“Who are you!” roared Harry, bursting into a fit of passion that was schoolboy-like in its heat and folly. “Say another word, sir, and I’ll pitch you off the cliff into the sea.”
“Here, steady, old fellow, steady!” whispered Pradelle; and he laid his hand on his companion’s arm.
“You mind your own business, Vic; and as for you—”
He stopped, for he could say no more. Leslie had quite ignored his presence, turning his back and offering his arm to Madelaine.
“Shall I walk home with you, Miss Van Heldre?” he said.