Despite this recommendation, Janice once again repeated her question, this time making it to André at the Assembly that evening.
“I know not,” the captain told her, pursing up his lips and raising his eyebrows. Then he called to his opposite in the quadrille: “Cathcart, can you tell me how long Mrs. Loring has rejoiced in that title of honour?”
The earl laughed as if André had said something witty, and made reply: “Since ever I can remember, and that is a full five years.”
When later the dancers adjourned to the supper-room, Lord Cathcart tossed a billet across the table to André, and he in turn passed it to Mobray, who was squiring Janice. The baronet held it so that she could see the message as well, and inscribed on the paper were the lines:—
“Your question don’t think me a moment ignoring:
‘How long has she honoured the surname of Loring?’
Wiseacre, first tell, how a man without honour
Could ever confer that fair jewel upon her?”
Sir Frederick, before handing it back, took Janice’s pencil from her dancing-card, and scribbled on the back of the quip:—
“The answer is plain, for by means of her face,
The lady secured him an honourable place.
In return for the favour, by clergy and vow,
She made sure of her honour, but who knows when or Howe?”
And from that interchange of epigrams Janice asked no further questions relative to Mrs. Loring, unless it might be of herself.
XLIII
A CHOICE OF EVILS
At this ball Janice was gladdened by word from André that he had effected the sale of the miniature, though he maintained absolute silence as to who the purchaser was, nor did she choose to inquire. The next morning brought a packet from him containing a rouleau of guineas, and so soon as they were counted, the girl hurried to the room on the ground floor which the commissary had taken as a half office, and, after an apology for the unannounced intrusion, said,—