“That, of course,” said Sophy serenely, “explains why you have come.”
“It explains nothing of the sort, and well you know it!” said Mr. Rivenhall.
“How wet your coat is!” remarked Sophy, spreading it out before the fire, “I do trust you may not have caught a chill!”
“Of course I have not caught a chill!” he said impatiently. “Besides, it has not been raining this last half hour!”
She handed him a glass of sherry. “I am so much relieved! Poor Lord Bromford contracted the most shocking cold! He had meant to have called Charlbury out, you know, but when he reached us he could only sneeze.”
“Bromford?” he exclaimed. “You do not mean to tell me he is here?”
“Yes, indeed. Miss Wraxton brought him. I think she hoped he might have offered for me and so saved my reputation, but the poor man was quite prostrated by this horrid chill, which he fears may descend upon his lungs. It put all else out of his mind, and one cannot be surprised at it.”
“Sophy, are you trying to humbug me?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall suspiciously. “Even Eugenia would not bring that blockhead down upon you!”
“Miss Wraxton does not consider him a blockhead. She says he is a man of sense, and one who — ”
“Thank you! I have heard enough!” he interrupted. “Here, take this creature! Where is Eugenia?”