Mr. Burrows turned to him in speechless astonishment, but the Blackguard came at once to the rescue. "Sit down again, youngster," he said gently; "we'll make a man of you yet. Good-night, Miss Burrows; good-night, youngster; so-long, Burrows,—see you again in the morning."
Then he turned on his heel and walked out.
"I think it's too bad," said the girl; "I never felt so shamed in all my life."
"Ah, well, you see," drawled Lunatic Burrows, with a sigh of relief. "A few more beans, Mr. Ramsay—just a few more."
"Who is he?" asked the girl.
"Why, that's Mr. La Mancha."
"La Mancha—is that the Blackguard?" Miss Burrows went to the door, looking out into the clear starlight on the hills. "I've heard of him. They say he's a tremendous swell. What a splendid man!"
"A swell?" drawled Mr. Burrows, awakening as though from some dream. "Dear, dear, you really ought to have warned me. It's all your fault, Violet. How was I to know? Run after him—bring him back at once."
Miss Violet turned her back on him, and went off to the kitchen.