"Dear my lady," said he, smiling down into her troubled eyes, "till this moment ne'er did I think this awkward, halting gait o' mine could seem so—so graceful as 'twere. I doubt 'twill irk me less, hereafter."
Then, gently possessing himself of hat and cane, he faced the dumb-struck company smiling and serene and, saluting each in turn, limped tranquilly away.
When he was gone, Lady Betty laughed shrilly, rent her laced handkerchief in quick, passionate hands and throwing it on the grass stamped on it; after which she flashed a glance of withering scorn upon the flinching bystanders and—sobbed.
"I detest, despise myself," she cried, "and you—all of you!"
Then she turned and sped, sobbing, into the house.
And the Major?
Reaching his study, he seized that exquisite, that peerless dove-coloured coat in merciless hands and wrenching it off, hurled it into a corner and rang for the Sergeant who came at the "double."
"Zebedee," said he between his teeth, pointing to that shimmering splendour of satin and silver lace, "take that accursed thing and burn it—bury it—away with it and bring me my Ramillie coat."