“You are absurd, Lucius!” protested Miss Grantham. “Could I have a brawl in the middle of a card-party? There nothing to be done, and in any event I never meant to kid him by a hateful trick, which was what you did!”
“And what will you be doing now, me dear, if I may ask get the bills out of his hands?” asked Kennet politely.
“I don’t know, but you may be sure I shall think of so thing,” replied Deborah.
“It’s my belief,” said Kennet, “that it’s more than half in love with the man you are, Deb!”
“I?” gasped Miss Grantham. “In love with Ravenscar? Have you taken leave of your senses, Lucius? I detest him! He is most abominable, the most hateful, the most odious—oh! can you talk such nonsense? I am in no humour for it, and bid you a very good night!”
She flounced out of the room as she spoke, almost collided with her brother in the doorway. Mr Grantham seemed out of breath, and exclaimed: “Deb! I could swear I saw him, just as I was crossing Piccadilly! You let him go after all!”
“I daresay you did see him,” she answered angrily. “But I did not let him go, and I never would have let him go, and he holds a very poor opinion of you, let me tell you!”
“And what, me dear Kit, may you be knowing about the business at all?” inquired Mr Kennet, as Deborah slammed the door behind her.
“I know it all! And I will thank you, Lucius, not to encourage Deb in her wildness again! If this night’s work has not ruined all my hopes it will be no fault of yours!”
“For the love of heaven, boy, what concern is it of yours?”