“I only exchange cards with gentlemen! sneered the other, savagely; and tore into fragments the one he held.
“Your card, sir!” repeated O’Hagan sternly. “You have insulted me, and I demand an opportunity to reply to you. Your card, sir!”
“Be damned to you!” said the other—and walked off to rejoin the lady.
O’Hagan was but a pace later beside her. He bowed, as no man has bowed in England since the days of plumes and lace.
“Madam, permit me to offer you my most humble apologies for having annoyed you!”
Innocent eyes, with an imp of mischief dancing in their shadowed pools, met the Captain’s.
“You are mistaken, sir. You have not annoyed me in the slightest!”
(“She was a born coquette,” O’Hagan has confided to me; “but devilish pretty and full of spirit. Too joyous a nature by far to dovetail with the sour-jowl who had insulted me.”)
“Then permit me to apologise for your friend,” continued the amazing Captain, “who forces this necessity upon me by declining his card!”
“How dare you!” cried the friend, breathless. “Hang it all! I’ll give you in charge if you continue to annoy me!”