‘You hang too much about the Castle,’ said Richard. ‘I know his lordship encourages you, but you ought to know better than to presume on his good-nature.’
‘Don’t you think,’ said Desmond quietly, ‘that you might leave his lordship to say that?’
‘You’re not fit company for my cousin,’ cried Richard hotly.
Dulcie rose with an exclamation of anger, but Desmond laid his hand upon her arm, and she remained silent.
‘And don’t you think,’ continued Desmond again, ‘that you might leave that for your cousin to say? She hasn’t said it yet.’ ‘Said it!’ cried Dulcie, in a white heat of anger; ‘why should I say it? A gentleman is fit company for anybody.’
‘A gentleman!’ sneered Richard. ‘A gentleman! Yes, but you should be able to tell the difference between the real article and the counterfeit.’
‘Oh!’ said Desmond, quietly still, but with more keenly glittering eyes and a pulsating voice. ‘And I suppose I’m the counterfeit? Is that what you mean?’
‘That is just what I mean,’ returned Richard.
‘Then,’ said Desmond, ‘if Lady Dulcie will do us the honour to leave us to ourselves, or if you’ll kindly step out on the lawn, the counterfeit will give the real article a taste of his quality.’
‘Desmond!’ cried Dulcie.