“Present me to Miss Trevennon,” and when Gaston had complied, she went on in a rather boisterous tone:
“I’ve been teasing your cousin to present me to you all the evening, Miss Trevennon; but I suppose he wanted the monopoly of you, for he would not even bring me into your neighborhood.”
“It may have been that he wanted the monopoly of yourself,” said Gaston, looking at her keenly and speaking in his quietest tones.
“Well, it’s more than you’ll ever want, then!” said Mrs. Vere, pertly; “so you can just keep yourself out of the matter.”
“I have every intention of doing so, madam,” said Gaston, gravely. “I know my place, and I value my peace of mind.”
Mrs. Vere flashed a quick, vindictive glance at him, as he uttered these quiet words, and then turning to Margaret, she said:
“I want to ask you to join a little theatre-party I am giving to-morrow evening, Miss Trevennon. There will be eight of us, and we are going to see As You Like It, and have a little supper at my house afterward. Now don’t say you have any other engagement.”
“Unfortunately I must,” said Margaret, conscious of the insincerity of the qualifying term, and yet too grateful to Louis for preparing her for this contingency to feel very contrite on account of it. “I have already pledged myself elsewhere.”
“How tiresome!” said Mrs. Vere, darting a suspicious glance at Louis, which he met with imperturbable gravity. “By-the-way, I called on you while you were in Baltimore. I suppose you got my card.”
And, without waiting for an answer, she moved away, on Decourcy’s arm, saying, as if half involuntarily: