Lord Larrian here burst into a brave old laugh, exclaiming, 'Oh! good!'
Mr. Redworth knitted his thick brows. 'I beg pardon? Ah! women! Weather and women? No; the one point more variable in women makes all the difference.'
'Can you tell me what the General laughed at?'
The honest Englishman entered the trap with promptitude. 'She said:—who is she, may I ask you?'
Lady Dunstane mentioned her name.
Daughter of the famous Dan Merion? The young lady merited examination for her father's sake. But when reminded of her laughter-moving speech, Mr. Redworth bungled it; he owned he spoilt it, and candidly stated his inability to see the fun. 'She said, St. George's Channel in a gale ought to be called St. Patrick's—something—I missed some point. That quadrille-tune, the Pastourelle, or something . . .'
'She had experience of the Channel last night,' Lady Dunstane pursued, and they both, while in seeming converse, caught snatches from their neighbours, during a pause of the dance.
The sparkling Diana said to Lord Larrian, 'You really decline to make any of us proud women by dancing to-night?'
The General answered: 'I might do it on two stilts; I can't on one.' He touched his veteran leg.
'But surely,' said she, 'there's always an inspiration coming to it from its partner in motion, if one of them takes the step.'