'But would it not be more seemly?' the Waldgrave was saying as I entered. 'As your cousin, and----'
'I would rather go alone,' the Countess replied curtly.
'To the camp?' he exclaimed. 'He is not in his city quarters.'
'Yes, to the camp,' my lady answered, with, a spark of anger in her eyes.
On that he stood, fidgety and discomfited, and the Countess gave me her orders. But he could not believe that she did not need him, and the moment she was silent, he began again.
'You do not want me; but you do not object to my company, I suppose?' he said airily. 'I have to thank the Count, cousin, and I must go to-day or to-morrow. There is no time like the present, and if you are going now----'
'I should prefer to go alone,' my lady said stiffly.
His face fell; he stood looking foolish. 'Oh, I did not know,' he stammered at last; 'I thought----'
'What?' the Countess said.
'That you liked me well enough--to--to be glad of my company,' he answered, half offended, half in deprecation.