Phyllis had guessed rightly, for coming to the seat that runs the full length of the enclosed garden in front of the “Albany,” Colonel Lane suggested that they should sit down.
Phyllis was far from comfortable.
“I am sorry that my little girl should deceive me,” began the Colonel in pained tones.
“Oh, don’t be cross!” said Phyllis, tugging viciously at a lace scarf which she was wearing, and which had caught on a button of her blouse. “There! now I have torn it!” she exclaimed.
“You know that you and Captain Arbuthnot were not to hold any communication during his absence,” went on the Colonel, ignoring his daughter’s remarks. “It is not treating that young man fairly—or me.”
“Oh, dad, let us talk of something else,” broke out Phyllis.
The Colonel began to lose patience. “I shall write to Captain Arbuthnot,” he said, “and express a wish that he leaves your letter unanswered. He is a gentleman and a soldier, and will understand. Women have no sense of honor.”
(The speaker made a mental reservation in favor of Mrs. Barrimore.)
“Any more for the motor boat?” shouted a boatman in raucous tones. “Come and have a jolly sail! We’re just a-going to start!”
“Oh, dear! do go to Brighton and leave me in peace!” cried Phyllis. “You’ll see some day the mistake you have made in your treatment of me! You complain that I deceive you, but you force me to do it! I love Captain Arbuthnot.”