She stared at him. “Mr. Beaumaris?” she gasped. He nodded. “Oh, no, do not say so! How could he have let you—No, no, Bertram!”
She sounded so much distressed that he was puzzled. “Why the devil shouldn’t he?”
“You are only a boy! He must have known! And to accept notes of hand from you! Surely he might have refused to do so much at least!”
“You don’t understand!” he said impatiently. “I went there with Chuffy, so why should he refuse to let me play?”
Mr. Scunthorpe nodded. “Very awkward situation, ma’am. Devilish insulting to refuse a man’s vowels.”
She could not appreciate the niceties of the code evidently shared by both gentlemen, but she could accept that they must obtain in male circles. “I must think it wrong of him,” she said. “But never mind! The thing is that he is—that I am particularly acquainted with him! Don’t be in despair, Bertram! I am persuaded that if I were to go to him, explain that you are not of age, and not a rich man’s son, he will forgive the debt!”
She broke off, for there was no mistaking the expressions of shocked disapprobation in both Bertram’s and Mr. Scunthorpe’s faces.
“Good God, Bella, what will you say next!”
“But, Bertram, indeed he is not proud and disagreeable, as so many people think him! I—I have found him particularly kind, and obliging!”
“Bella, this is a debt of honour! If it takes me my life long to do it, I must pay it, and so I shall tell him!”