“You know her, Grahame?” cried the third individual, advancing, “pray introduce us; we shall make a blissful termination to a dull barrack dinner.”
At the sound of his voice, Lotte’s companion seemed as though she would crawl upon the earth from the spot. It was the Honorable Lester Vane who spoke. Lotte was at a loss to divine why she betrayed so much abject fear, but she felt that it called upon her for renewed spirit and exertions.
She caught a firmer hold of her companion’s arm, and pushing her first assailant out of her path, hurried on, but he instantly pursued and caught her.
“You are a little vixenish fairy,” he said. “I like vixens. I have a thorough-bred filly, which is the sweetest creature to look at in the world of racers, but she has a temper, and I have named her Vixen. I like vixens. My little yacht, a perfect duck upon the water, will run in the teeth of a breeze like an arrow, as if out of spite; I have named her Vixen. I have”——
Finding that remonstrance, as well as resistance, were utterly unavailing, Lotte screamed for assistance loudly and vehemently.
Her cry was so sudden, so unexpected, so shrill and piercing, that it startled even those men against whose insults it was directed.
Almost instantly, from a hollow, the shadowy forms of two men appeared dark against the sky. Both gave a shout; and, in another moment, racing like deer, they reached the side of Lotte and her companion.
“What is all this?” cried one of the new arrivals.
“Have these men insulted you?”
Lotte uttered an almost hysterical shriek.