“Papa,” interposed his daughter, with cold severity, “we will leave these gentlemen to enjoy the novelties and charms by themselves for a few minutes, if you please. I have an explanation to make to you, since no one else offers it, and I think it should be no longer deferred.”
She took her father’s arm as she spoke, and led him in a direct line across the sward toward the broad, low-lying, ivy-clad rear of the hotel. “Oh, it’s all right; they don’t mind your walking on the grass in England,” the two young men heard her say as she departed.
These partners in deception gazed after her for a space. Then they looked at each other.
“Davie, I don’t like it,” said the Earl.
“Don’t like what?”
“I’m afraid she’s got some kind of an inkling. It looks as if a suspicion were dawning in her mind. I warned you she was keen of scent.”
Mosscrop burst forth with a peremptory guffaw of laughter. “You duffer of the earth,” he cried, “she knew all about you before ever she laid eyes on you!” He unfolded the chuckling narrative forthwith, to the Earl’s profound astonishment and concern.
“Why then, man,” Drumpipes ejaculated at last, staring hard at the close-cropped lawn, “I can’t tell in the least if she loves me for myself alone.”
“Oh, you read that in some novel,” objected David. “It’s a mere phrase; it has no significance in real life.”
“Yes; but,” the other pursued, dejectedly, “I don’t see how I can make sure that she loves me in any kind of way.”