“You’ve got it badly, sonny, very badly; but I’d rather you didn’t swear at her.”
“Badly? Yes. But I’ll tell you what’s playing the mischief with me—I kissed her.”
“She let you?”
Farquhar laughed. “I took it.”
“Oho, my irreverent friend, you did, did you?”
“I did. Heavenly sweet it was, too; where do they get it, these girls, the power to drive a man sheer mad—hold on, will you? you dashed fool! That’s meant for me, De Saumarez, not you.”
“It’s a fact,” said Lucian, “that I never could resist a kiss myself. After all, there’s no harm in it, and it’s mighty agreeable when both parties are willing; though I take it Miss Dolly was not?”
“She wasn’t. You’re right there.”
“Upon my solemn honour, I wish I could thrash you!”
A scratch and a spurt of white flame: Farquhar had struck a lucifer. The outleap of light showed Lucian’s unguarded face and was gone.