“Fred, dear, you hurt me when you talk like this.”
“Then I’ll be serious. Rum thing I should drift into being the Major’s servant, isn’t it? Makes me know him, though. I say, Clairy, you’re a beautiful girl, and there’s no knowing who may come courting.”
“Hush, Fred!”
“Not I. Let me speak. Look here: our Major’s one of the handsomest men in the town, Prince’s favourite, and all that sort of thing; but if ever he speaks to you, be on your guard, for he’s as big a scoundrel as ever breathed, and over head in debt.”
“Don’t be afraid, Fred,” said the girl, smiling.
“I’m not, pet. So the old girl’s at home, is she?”
“Yes.”
“Sitting in her diamonds and lace, eh?”
Claire nodded.
“Wish I had some of them instead of that old cat—hang her!—for I’m awfully short of money. I say, dear, can you let me have a few shillings?”