Tears came into the scared eyes. But it was the tone of the words rather than the words themselves that drew them.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” The sight of her tears seemed to make him a shade less magisterial. In spite of himself he couldn’t help softening a little. And in Miss Cass’s present state of emotion the merest hint of softness was too much for her.
“I d-daren’t,” she sobbed. “I s-simply daren’t.”
“Why not?” It was half indignation, half overmastering curiosity.
“I l-like you so much I c-couldn’t bear to give you up.” The truth came out in a gulp.
Once more he laughed. But in the act of doing so he realized how much this rather rubbishy little thing had hurt him.
XXXIII
Defeated by the absurdity of the situation Lord Duckingfield suddenly ended his interview with Miss Cass. He still had a desire to chastise her. But there were certain reservations in his mind in regard to the little donkey. She had been inconceivably weak, inconceivably foolish, inconceivably vain; nevertheless it was the real Lady Elfreda who must be asked to pay the bill. Even the indignant fancy of my lord hardly knew how to paint the wanton cynicism of that young woman.
In the midst of the preposterous scene with the incredible Miss Cass the angry gentleman felt a craving for fresh air. He warded off that lady’s threat of hysteria by turning his back upon her and striding to the hall door. Let him banish her from his mind—at any rate until he had been able to think over the matter in all its bearings and he had made some attempt to adjust his mental processes to a quite unparalleled affair.
However, as he learned all too soon, even that modest program was not going to be easy to fulfill. For as he came to the hall door he found himself in the midst of flurry and commotion. The Park omnibus was in the act of arrival from the station. With pomp and circumstance it had just drawn up to the threshold and was solemnly disgorging a really imposing vision on to the front steps.