So I told him briefly of the storm, how, dazed and shaken after being thrown by Wildfire, I wandered into the wood and came upon the poor, distracted girl and brought her back with me to the "Soaring Lark." To all of which he listened, tap-tapping softly with his foot.
"Ha—outside that accursed house!" he exclaimed, when I had done. "The place should be burned down!" And then in a different tone, glancing at me somewhat askance, "But then, Perry—egad—don't ye see this does not explain your abrupt departure from the reception and flight from London—now does it?"
"Not in the least, Anthony. Nor can I offer any explanation."
Here Anthony pursed his lips to a soundless whistle and began his soft tap-tapping again.
"Diana was—deeply hurt," said he at last. "Every hour she is grieving for you—breaking her heart, Perry—as we sit here."
"For God's sake, Anthony," I cried passionately, "keep your feet still!"
"Eh? Oh, begad, forgive me, Perry! Consequently, she will be overjoyed to learn you are here safe. She will post down to you as fast as horses can bring her—"
"Need she know, Anthony?" At this he turned with a kind of leap and glanced at me with a startled expression.
"Lord, man—you are really ill!" he exclaimed.
"Ill or no, Anthony, if you are truly my friend and value my friendship, promise me—swear to me she shall not come near me!"