"Miss Berkeley has omitted one thing," said I maliciously.
"And, pray, what?" asked Miss Berkeley's uncle.
"Remember," she whispered, "you are supposed to be a gentleman."
I took umbrage at the word "supposed."
"Miss Berkeley must tell you what she has omitted in the course of her narrative."
"And I refuse to tell."
"Hang it, Nell, I'll wager Mr. Anonymous kissed you!" cried her uncle.
"Caught!" cried one of the ladies.
"Allow me a word," I interposed. I was already sorry. "There was a method in my action which must not be misconstrued. I believed, for a moment, that Miss Berkeley might be a new species of bunko-steerer. If she objected noisily to my salute I should find my case proved; if she cried, I was wrong."
"And?"