“Good God, how is this? I had thought Sir Horace must have taught you how to handle a small sword!”
“No,” said Sophy, making her mouth prim. “And he has not taught me how to box either, so there are two things, Charles, which you must be able to do better than I can!”
“You quite outstrip me,” he agreed suavely. “Particularly in the art of dalliance!”
She instantly disconcerted him by making an attack direct. “Dalliance, Charles? You do not, I hope, accuse me of flirting?”
“Do I not?” he said grimly. “Enlighten me, I beg, on the nature of your dealings with Charlbury!”
She showed him an innocent face. “But, Charles, how is this? Surely I could not be mistaken! All is at an end between him and Cecilia! You cannot suppose it possible that I would encourage his advances if that were not so!”
The bay horse broke into a canter and was checked. Mr. Rivenhall said furiously, “Foolery! Don’t try to humbug me, Sophy! Charlbury and you! Why, what a gull you must think me!”
“Oh, no!” Sophy assured him soulfully. “But there is nothing I would not do to oblige Sir Horace, and I would far rather marry Charlbury than Bromford!”
“It sometimes seems to me,” said Mr. Rivenhall, “that delicacy is a virtue utterly unknown to you!”
“Yes, tell me about it!” she said, with immense cordiality.