"I'll be shot if you shall have an invitation to Lancaster Park, you popinjay!" Lancaster muttered to himself, in unreasonable irritation.
He moved away a little further from them, out of earshot of their talk, but he could not as easily divert his thoughts from them.
"How silly people can be upon occasion!" he thought. "How dare he get up a flirtation with Mrs. West's niece? She is wholly out of his sphere. Once she gets to England, I dare swear he will never be permitted to lay eyes on her again. He shall not make a fool of the child. She is but a child, and ignorant of those laws of caste that will trammel Mrs. West's niece in England. I will speak to him."
[CHAPTER XII.]
That night when the girl had gone to her state-room, and the two men were alone on deck smoking their cigars in the soft spring moonlight, Lancaster said, rather diffidently:
"Oh, I say, De Vere, weren't you going the pace rather strong this evening?"
"Eh?" said the lieutenant.
"I say you oughtn't to try to flirt with little Leonora West. You were saying no end of soft things to her this evening. It isn't right. She's in my care, and I can't see her harmed without a word."
"Harmed? Why, what the deuce are you hinting at, Lancaster?" his friend demanded, hotly.