Miss Marling opened her blue eyes very wide. “Not even for me, Dominic?” she said soulfully.
His lordship remained unmoved. “No,” he replied.
Miss Marling sighed and shook her head. “You are horridly disobliging, you know. It quite decides me not to marry you.”
“I hoped it might,” said his lordship calmly.
Miss Marling made an effort to look affronted, but only succeeded in giggling. “You needn’t be afraid. I am going to marry someone quite different,” she said.
His lordship evinced signs of faint interest at that. “Are you?” he inquired. “Does my aunt know?”
“You may be very wicked, and quite hatefully rude,” said Miss Marling, “but I will say one thing for you, Dominic: you do not need to have things explained to you like John. Mamma does not mean me to marry him, and that is why I am to be packed off to France next week.”
“Who is ‘he?’ Ought I to know?” inquired the Marquis.
“I don’t suppose you know him. He is not at all the sort of person who would know your set,” said Miss Marling severely.
“Ah, then I was right,” retorted my lord. “You are contemplating a mésalliance.”