"Only continued to 'make love,' and 'snatch a kiss,'" sarcastically rejoined Mr. Carr.
"Once in a way. What is a man to do, exposed to the witchery of a pretty girl?"
"Oh, Percival! You are worse than I thought for. Where is Miss Ashton?"
"Coming home next Friday," groaned Val. "And the dowager asked me yesterday whether Maude and I had arranged the time for our marriage. What on earth I shall do, I don't know. I might sail for some remote land and convert myself into a savage, where I should never be found or recognized; there's no other escape for me."
"How much does Miss Ashton know of this?"
"Nothing. I had a letter from her this morning, more kindly than her letters have been of late."
"Lord Hartledon!" exclaimed Mr. Carr, in startled tones. "Is it possible that you are carrying on a correspondence with Miss Ashton, and your love-making with Lady Maude?"
Val nodded assent, looking really ashamed of himself.
"And you call yourself a man of honour! Why, you are the greatest humbug—"
"That's enough; no need to sum it up. I see all I've been."