Captain Macartney surveyed him with some jealousy. “So you too have an eye to her movements?”
“Yes,” said Camperdown impishly. “I don’t care for her antecedents.”
“Oh, indeed; I am glad that you do not,” said the officer, drawing on his gloves with a smile. “Of course you do not. You have no right to do so. How is that lady with the charming name?”
“She is well.”
“Is she still in her old quarters?”
“Yes.”
“I must do myself the pleasure of calling on her. She is as remarkable as ever I suppose?”
“More so.”
“I can well believe it. Now I must leave you. I am due at the South Barracks at twelve,” and he rose to go.
“Stop, Macartney; there are mitigating circumstances connected with this affair. I told you that Miss Delavigne’s immediate ancestry was poor. It is also noble on her mother’s side—formerly rich. You have heard of the French family the Lacy d’Entrevilles?”