“Who is this gentleman?” inquired the Duke.
“I don’t know who he is—I don’t want to have anything to do with him—he’s no acquaintance of mine—I wish he’d go away!”
That old man actually dared to pretend to be hurt by my repudiation of him.
“There now, listen to that! And, for all I know, my wife’s still standing on the pavement waiting for her carriage; while, at this hour of the night, I’ve been following this ungrateful girl in it like a—like a—like a true friend. And I arrive at the moment when the protection of a true friend is most needed, and this is the welcome I receive. There’s nothing so ungrateful as a young girl—especially when gratitude is owing to a man of my years. But, my dear young lady, I will forgive you everything; so come back to my carriage and don’t let us trouble this young gentleman any further.”
His fingers fastened about my arm. I shrunk back.
“Don’t touch me.”
The Duke, placing himself between us, spoke to that horrid old wretch.
“Have the goodness not to allow us to detain you any longer.”
I believe there would have been a scene before we could have got rid of him, because, so far as I could see, he showed no sign of budging, and every second I was growing queerer and queerer. Something inside of me seemed to have escaped from my control, so that I could not pull myself together and behave like a reasonable being. Just as I was beginning to be afraid that I should have to sit down in the middle of the road, or do something else equally insane, up dashed another vehicle. I believe it was a hansom cab, but as I was seeing everything through a kind of mist, I could not be sure. Anyhow, out of it jumped the brown man’s sister. I thought her voice, as it reached my dulling ears, was the pleasantest I had heard that night. After all, there is nothing like a woman, when you have had enough of men.
“So I’ve found you, have I? Pray, what’s doing now? Bernard, what fresh freak are you indulging in?”