"No explanation or apology is required," she went on implacably, "since under no circumstances shall we allow the acquaintance to continue."
Was he on his head or his heels? These were practically the very words he had meant to use. This was the shell he had meant to hurl into the enemy's camp, and here it was, exploding under his own feet!
"But my son has pledged his word to come again, and—"
Again she interrupted him. "Make yourself easy on that score," she said; and now there was even a note of contempt in her voice. "He has broken his word."
"That was my doing!" cried Lord Otford, almost apologetically. "I persuaded him to wait a week. I regret to say he means to come to-day."
"Well," answered Madame, with the utmost indifference, "Pomander Walk is public, and we cannot prevent him."
"But he 'll see your daughter!"
"I think not. Unless he breaks into the house."
"Upon my soul, I believe he 'll go that length!" What Lord Otford had intended should be a menace, turned to an appeal. "That is where I ask for your co-operation."
Madame looked him up and down with indignant protest. Really, he might have been poor Snooks. "Pardon me," she said, "not co-operation." She drew herself up and her eyes flashed. "But I shall defend my own."