The Viscount's handsome face grew suddenly red, and as suddenly pale again, and his eyes glowed as he fronted Barnabas across the hearth.
"Mr. Beverley," said he very quietly, "how am I to take that?"
"In friendship, Dick, for the truth of it is that—though she is as brave, as pure, as beautiful as any lady in the land, she is a chambermaid none the less."
The Viscount turned, and striding to the window stood there, looking out with bent head.
"Have I offended you?" inquired Barnabas.
"You go—too far, Beverley."
"I would go farther yet for my friend, Viscount, or for our Lady
Cleone."
Now when Barnabas said this, the Viscount's head drooped lower yet, and he stood silent. Then, all at once, he turned, and coming to the hearth, the two stood looking at each other.
"Yes, I believe you would, Beverley. But you have a way of jumping to conclusions that is—devilish disconcerting. As for Chichester, the world would be well rid of him. And, talking of him, I met another rascal as I came—I mean that fellow Smivvle; had he been here?"
"Yes."