“Madame,” said he, bowing with extreme ceremony, “I trust we ha’n’t kept your ladyship long a-waiting!... You may drive on, my addle-brained wiseacre, and pocket this guinea for possessing the wit not to run over a lady in broad daylight.” So saying, Sir John bestowed the coin, got into the chaise and closed the door, whereupon the jubilant post-boy cracked his whip ecstatically, chirruped gaily to his horses, and they drove on again.
“And now, madame,” inquired Sir John coldly, eyelids a-droop, chin uptilted, and seated as far from her as the narrow vehicle allowed, “pray, what folly is this?”
“Folly, indeed, John, to run away ... and so very early in the morning, too!”
“How came you hither, madame?”
“In George Potter’s cart.... And do not be so extreme distant, John ... for thee I left my warm bed at sunrise!”
“Your ladyship amazes me!”
“Merely because, sir, with all your knowledge of womankind, you don’t in the very least apprehend this woman.... O John, didst think I would suffer thee to steal thyself from me, so?”
“And why are you here, madame?”
“To woo thee,” she answered softly, “to seek thy love.”
Sir John started and turned to glance out of the window.