“Harriet!” said his lordship, in martial accents, “I order you to come downstairs again, and talk to me! ”
“Yes, yes, I will do so directly!” promised his harassed sister, propelling Belinda towards the stairs.
When she came down again some few minutes later, she found Lord Gaywood awaiting her in the doorway of the book-room. He promptly seized her by the hand, and led her in, saying: “Harriet, tell me this! Is that out-and-out beauty the game-pullet Sale had with him at Hitchin, or is she not?”
Harriet replied with a good deal of dignity: “Pray do not pull me about so, Gaywood! I don’t know what a game-pullet is, and I am sure I don’t want to, for it sounds to me a horribly vulgar expression!”
“It’s precisely what you think it is, so don’t be missish!” retorted his lordship.
“Well, you should not say such things to me. And she is not! ”
“Then who is this Duke who calls himself Rufford?” demanded Gaywood. “Now I come to think of it, Rufford’s that place of Gilly’s in Yorkshire! Well, by God, this is a new come-out for him! And all the time bamboozling everyone—”
“He did not!” she said hotly. “You are quite, quite mistaken! He has behaved in the noblest way!”
“Harry!” he exploded. “How can you be such a fool as to let him pitch his gammon to you! Didn’t that old cat tell us how she saw him with a girl hanging on his arm, in the most—”
“Yes! And it was you who said, Charlie, that you did not believe a word of it, because she was for ever cutting up characters!”