“Say to me? I was never so snubbed in my life. Any one would think I had been the dirt under her feet; but I’ve not done yet. Her ladyship doesn’t know me if she thinks I’m going to give up like that.”
“There, that’ll do, Vic. No threats, please.”
“Oh, no; I’m not going to threaten. I can wait.”
“Yes,” said Harry, thoughtfully; “we chose the wrong time. We mustn’t give up, Vic; we shall have to wait.”
And they went back to their old nook beneath the cliff to smoke their pipes, while as the thin blue vapour arose, Harry’s hot anger grew cool, and he began to think of his aunt’s words, of Comte Henri des Vignes, and of the fair daughters of France—a reverie from which he was aroused by his companion, as he said suddenly—
“I say, Harry lad, I want you to lend me a little coin.”