A blush poured hotly into Letty’s face. The rudeness of talking about her before her face angered her intensely, but did not for a moment disconcert her. There was a little pause. Miss Cornwell looked straight before her with an air of amused apprehension. Then Letty spoke in a clear, soft voice:
“You are mistaken,” she said, looking Woodruff calmly in the face. “I do not belong to that society. I do not altogether believe in professional philanthropy. I was, it is true, shocked at the idea of fox-hunting in August, because, although I have been accustomed to seeing hunting in a sportsmanlike manner all my life, the fox was given a chance for his life.”
It was now Woodruff’s turn to blush, which he did furiously. He was not really a rude man, but his whole social training had been in the line of trying to imitate people of another type than himself, and consequently his perceptions were not acute. The imitative process is a blunting one. But he did not desire to give anybody pain, and the idea of a social blunder was simply harrowing to him.
“Pray excuse me,” he said, and looked a picture of awkward misery, and Miss Cornwell actually seemed to enjoy his predicament.
Letty had instantly risen as soon as she had spoken, but by the time she had taken a step forward there was a little movement in front of her, and the next moment she saw the same Sir Archibald Corbin she had seen ten years ago, standing in front of her, holding out his hand and saying: “May I ask if this is not my cousin, Miss Corbin, of Corbin Hall? You were a little girl when I saw you last, but I cannot be mistaken.”
“Yes, I am Letty Corbin,” answered Letty, giving him her hand, impulsively; she would have welcomed her deadliest enemy at that moment, in order to create a diversion.
But the effect of this meeting and greeting upon Woodruff and Miss Cornwell, and the people surrounding them, was magnetic. If Letty had announced, “I am the sole and only representative of the noble house of Plantagenet,” or Howard, or Montmorenci, their surprise could not have been greater.
Sir Archy spoke to them with that cool British civility which is not altogether pleasing. Woodruff had time to feel a ridiculous chagrin at the footing which his alleged friend put him on, and Letty was quite feline enough to let him see it. She fixed two pretty, malicious eyes on him, and smiled wickedly when instead of making up to Sir Archy, he very prudently turned toward Miss Cornwell, who likewise seemed secretly amused.
But Sir Archy’s manner toward Letty was cordiality itself. He asked after the Colonel.
“And such a royal snubbing as I got from him that time so long ago,” he said, fervently. “I hope he has no intention of repeating it.”