"And petted you into staying here much longer than you intended, now didn't she?"
"Which reminds me that it grows late, mam," said the Captain, taking out his watch and frowning at it. "I must find my ward. I say I will bring Cleone to make you her adieux." So saying, he bowed and strode away across the lawn.
"Poor Jack," smiled the Duchess, "he is such a dear, good, obedient child, and he doesn't know it. And so your name is Beverley, hum! Of the Beverleys of Ashleydown? Yet, no,—that branch is extinct, I know. Pray what branch are you? Why, here comes Sir Mortimer Carnaby,—heavens, how handsome he is! And you thrashed him, I think? Oh, I know all about it, sir, and I know—why!"
"Then," said Barnabas, somewhat taken aback, "you'll know he deserved it, madam."
"Mm! Have you met him since?"
"No, indeed, nor have I any desire to!"
"Oh, but you must," said the Duchess, and catching Sir Mortimer's gaze, she smiled and beckoned him, and next moment he was bowing before her. "My dear Sir Mortimer," said she, "I don't think you are acquainted with my friend, Mr. Beverley?"
"No," answered Sir Mortimer with a perfunctory glance at Barnabas.
"Ah! I thought not. Mr. Beverley—Sir Mortimer Carnaby."
"Honored, sir," said Sir Mortimer, as they bowed.