“Oh, I say, hang it all, Lucy Alleyne, can’t you drop that captaining of a fellow when we’re out here tête-à-tête. It’s all very well up at the Hall but not here, and so early in the morning, we needn’t be quite so formal, eh?”
“Just as you like,” said Lucy, with the malicious twinkle in her eyes on the increase.
“That’s right,” cried Rolph; “and, I say, you know, come, own up—you did, didn’t you?”
“Did what?” cried Lucy.
“Know I was training this morning.”
“Indeed, no,” cried Lucy, indignantly, with a look that in no wise abashed the captain.
“Oh, come now, that won’t do,” cried Rolph. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not a bit ashamed,” cried Lucy stoutly; and then to herself, “Oh yes, I am—horribly. What a fright, to be sure!”
“That’s right,” cried Rolph, “but I know you did come, and I say I’m awfully flattered, I am, indeed. I wish, you know, you’d take a little more interest in our matches and engagements: it would make it so much pleasanter for a fellow.”
“Would it?” said Lucy.