“I was just about to do so,” said Tom, with great dignity, and even greater mendacity. “By Jupiter, I never wanted my dinner more! I am quite gutfoundered!”
On this elegant expression, he vanished, leaving the Duke to ask Belinda, in a failing voice, if she knew what her friend’s surname might now be. He was by this time sufficiently well acquainted with Belinda to feel no surprise at her reply.
“Oh, no! I daresay she may have told me, but I did not attend particularly, you know, for why should I?”
“Then what,” demanded Gilly, “are we to do?”
He had no very real expectation of receiving an answer to this question, but Belinda,—assuming an expression of profound thought, suddenly said: “Well, do you know, sir, I think I would as lief marry Mr. Mudgley after all?”
The introduction into his life of this entirely new character slightly staggered the Duke. He said: “Who, Belinda, is Mr. Mudgley?
Belinda’s eyes grew soft with memory. “He is a very kind gentleman,” she sighed.
“I am sure he is,”agreed the Duke. “Did he promise you a purple silk gown?”
“No,” said Belinda mournfully, “but he took me to see his farm, and his mother, driving me in his own gig! And he said he was wishful to marry me, only Uncle Swithin told me I should go away with him, and be a real lady, and so of course I went.”
“Of course,” said the Duke. “Did you know Mr. Mudgley when you lived in Bath?”