Miss Thane sighed. “Perhaps that might be forgiven, but your heartlessness in refusing to ride ventre a terre to her deathbed—”
“Good God, surely she cannot have fled the house for such a ridiculous reason?” exclaimed Shield, considerably exasperated. “Why she should continually be harping on the notion of her own death passes my comprehension! She seems to me a perfectly healthy young woman.”
Miss Thane looked at him in horror. “You did not tell her that, I trust?”
“I don’t know what I told her. I might very easily.”
“If I were you,” said Miss Thane, “I would give up this idea you have of marrying your cousin. You would not suit.”
“I’m fast coming to that conclusion myself,” he said. “Moreover, Miss—What is your name?”
“Thane,” replied Sarah.
“Thane?” he repeated. “I fancy I have met someone of that name, but I do not immediately recall—”
“At Mendoza’s Saloon,” interpolated Sarah helpfully.
He looked a little amused. “Yes, possibly. But do you—”