“Oh, damn Nicholson!” cried John hastily; then: “Really, I beg your pardon, madam. I have been a savage these two months past, as you very rightly remarked.”
“I was going to say,” she went on, “that if you will waive etiquette and come and dine with me to-night, I shall be very glad of your company.”
“Ah, Miss Berrington, that is heaping coals of fire on this tousled head of mine. I could not venture into a civilised household in these rags. I am sure you will excuse me.”
“Indeed I shall not. I make a bold appeal to your gallantry. I do not know my way; I am certain to get lost in the forest. You see, my horse has always been my guide, and, entirely through your fault, my horse is no longer here to lead me through the woods, so please be my pathfinder.”
“Certainly, certainly, I’ll lead you to the gates, but don’t ask me to come in. I’m very much ashamed of myself, and I assure you that if your horse were here, I should help you to mount, and allow you to depart unscathed.”
“You didn’t help me to dismount,” said the girl, glancing at him with eyes brimful of mischief, and laughing again.
With something of his old-time heartiness, Jack laughed at her readiness of repartee.
“You should not hold that against me. We were not acquainted then. It seems years ago, instead of minutes. I think if you and I had met when I first called on you, my later troubles would all have been averted.”
“Oh, they did not tell me you had called.”
“My visit was to your palace on Fifth Avenue, where I was received by a gorgeous individual with a cockney accent, whose knowledge of geography was such that he supposed Lake Saratoga and Lake Superior were neighbours and about of a size.”