"You say he is older than me," said The Desmond, "and a Frenchy, too, bedad. Look at me, do I look young now?"
"No, you have got a bit of a disappointment, but she will be back with you in three months."
The Desmond turned his head aside and it was only Mansfield who noticed his shaking hands.
"My little bit, my little own," he murmured, "my pushkeen, my little own."
Mansfield got up very softly and left the room. In a few minutes he returned with some hot whisky and water, which he gave the old man.
"You must take it, sir," he said. "You are shook up, the same as I am, but she'll be back with you soon, for I'll bring her to you myself."
There was a great excitement in the house when it was announced by Fergus that Margot St. Juste, according to the French law, was a Comtesse, and that she was to go immediately, that very day, to her French grandfather's château outside Arles.
The place was in a kind of turmoil, but the old man did not appear. Little Margot rushed in and clasped her arms round his neck.
"Grand-dad, I won't go."
"Ye must, pushkeen."