‘Thank you for the honour you do me in not addressing me!’ said Desmond quietly.
There was something in Richard’s manner which the lad could not define, something more than usually insolent and offensive.
‘I really think, Dulcie,’ said Richard, ‘that you might give us a little of your company now and then, instead of running all over the county like a madcap with all the tatterdemalions in the village. I wish we were back in Dublin, with civilized people about us.’
‘Really, Mr. Conseltine,’ said Dulcie quietly, but with a manner which marked her sense of the side-sneer at Desmond, ‘I can choose my society without your assistance.’
The lowering look which always rested on Richard’s heavy features deepened.
‘No, you can’t,’ he said roughly; ‘or, at all events, you don’t. You’re getting yourself talked about all over the county, wandering about like a girl off the hillside with any vagabond who——’
‘I beg your pardon,’ interrupted Desmond, with great smoothness of manner, but with a dangerous glitter in his eyes, ‘but civility costs nothing, Mr. Richard. Were you alluding to me at all?’
‘Well,’ said Richard, trying hard to revert to his usual manner of heavy insolence, but speaking angrily, ‘and what if I was?’
‘Why——’ returned Desmond, rising.
‘Don’t be afraid, Lady Dulcie, I’m not going to quarrel. If I’ve said or done anything to give offence to this kind, civil-spoken, amiable young gentleman, I’m willing and anxious to apologize. What’s my offence, sir?’