“Simply because Fishpingle read that clipping to me about a week ago.”
The Squire growled.
“This looks like a damned conspiracy.”
At this moment Lady Pomfret sailed into the room, followed by Margot. Prudence had fled, weeping to her kind mistress. Regardless of a visitor, the maid had told her piteous tale, entreating help, first aid which couldn’t wait. Lady Pomfret had hesitated, knowing her man. Then Margot had interposed. “L’union fait la force.” Let them seek the autocrat together. Let women’s wit and tact prevail! She ached for the encounter. Together they would triumph gloriously. Lady Pomfret yielded reluctantly to importunity. Prudence raced back to Alfred.
Lady Pomfret smiled at her lord.
“Dear Geoffrey, we have just seen poor little Prudence Rockley.”
Margot, in her sprightliest tone, added incisively:
“Yes; and we’ve nipped in to fight under Cupid’s banner.” She advanced to the charge gaily. “Now, you must listen to—me.”
But Sir Geoffrey was proof against alluring wiles.
“Must I?” he said stiffly.