He mingled among his guests with a word here and there, sending some downstairs, and interfering in a tête-à-tête between May and Sir Harry Payne, who had at last won a promise from the giddy little creature to whom he was paying court. He then went up to Rockley, snuff-box in hand, and addressed him as he was leaning against the chimney-piece.
“I’m afraid our little reunion has no charms for you, Major Rockley,” he said.
“On the contrary, my dear Denville, I am delighted.”
“But you have had no refreshment. Pray come down.”
“Without a lady?”
“Yes, without a lady. Or, no, I will speak now, and you can go afterwards. A little mistake, Major Rockley. You’ll pardon me; a little mistake.”
His heart sank as he spoke, and he trembled almost guiltily at the task he had in hand.
The Major’s dark eyes flashed as he scowled at him.
“If you mean, sir, that by addressing—”
“No, no, Major Rockley; a little mistake. You thought you dropped your snuff-box.”