“Oh, very well!” said Garnet, with a curling lip; “only as he is a pauper, educated by the bounty of your uncle—”
But his speech was cut short by Pet’s springing suddenly round, with blazing eyes, passion-darkened face, and fiercely and passionately bursting out with:
“It is false! It is a foul slander! Ray Germaine is no pauper; and if you ever dare to say such a thing again, I shall have you turned out of the house! Take care how you talk, Mr. Rozzel Garnet! It’s treading on dangerous ground to slight my friends before me!”
Mr. Garnet saw that he had made a false move, and that it was dangerous work handling this fiery little grenade, so he banished all traces of his recent scowl from his face, and his tones were of honeyed sweetness when he spoke again.
“Ten thousand pardons, Miss Lawless, for my offence. Believe me, I had not the remotest intention of slighting your excellent friend, Mr. Germaine. You and he were very intimate, I presume?”
“Thick as pickpockets,” said Pet, forgetting her momentary anger. “Heigho! I wish he was here; he was the only masculine I ever knew, who wasn’t as stupid as an owl.”
“That’s a very flattering speech, Miss Lawless,” said Garnet, biting his lip, “and a very sweeping assertion. Are there no exceptions but him?”
“Not that I’ve ever met. I dare say there may be one or two in the world; but I haven’t come across them.”
There was a moment’s pause, during which Garnet sat gnawing his nether lip, and Pet flitted round the room, humming an opera air. He watched her covertly, and then, seeing her about to leave, he started impulsively up, exclaiming:
“One moment, Miss Pet—I have something to say to you.”