“Mrs. Loring,” I answered severely, “did you send for me to tell me it was a lovely day, and that it was nice to be young?”
“Of course not,” she replied, much embarrassed. “I wanted—I wanted to talk to you. I wanted—oh, do help me, Loring.”
“Molly wanted to tell you, Rollo——” began Chatterton.
I silenced him with a peremptory wave of the hand.
“Molly wanted to tell me something I didn’t know,” I replied. “Molly wanted to tell me that I was blind and deaf and stupid, and that I couldn’t see what was under my nose. She wanted to tell me of afternoon appointments at her house, and Heaven knows what sort of carrying on. She wanted——”
“Well, you shouldn’t tease them so,” replied Mrs. Loring, illogical, after the manner of women, but staunch.
“Madam,” I said, “I am not so fatuous as to suppose that if two young persons intend to practise idolatry on one another, my wisdom and experience will stop them. But I have been plotted against, have been told nothing; and I am entitled to get what melancholy amusement I can out of the affair. You have spoiled my entertainment.”
I adjusted my hat to an angle suggestive of rectitude, and bowed myself away. I made for my hostess, and had myself presented to the general.
“You have a promising young strategist in our young friend Bassishaw,” I remarked.
“In what way?” he inquired.