“You needn’t worry. Woolly lambs don’t fight—they run away.”
“Oh, but can’t you see how silly it is!” she cried in exasperation. “It is bound to get round to the clubs, and then to the women, and mother will be furious. I must make them come to their senses somehow.”
“What’s it all about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” expressively. “A storm in a tea-cup, of course, but you Irishmen are so ridiculously hot-headed. Take a hot-headed Irishman and an Englishman who is a fool, and they’re sure to do something silly.
“I don’t mind about them,” running on, “but I do want to keep it from mother and father. You see, they give me a lot of liberty, and they’ll think I’ve been abusing it, and it really wasn’t my fault this time,” and the tears sprang to her eyes again.
“What happened?”
“Well, it was at the Inglis’ dance. Lord Selloyd would follow me about, and Captain O’Connor got angry. I think they had both had too much champagne for supper, and in the end they had a row.”
“Probably it has all blown over by now.”
“No, it hasn’t. They will both be at the Markhams’ to-night, and it will be very unpleasant.”
“I shall be there,” said Lawrence. “Can’t I see you through!”