"Then," Tom cried in a rage, "who the devil is she?"
"She's Lady Betty Cochrane, the duke's daughter."
"And the apple of his eye," Sir Hervey added with a nod. "I tell you what, my lad, I would not be in your shoes for something."
Tom stared, gasped, seemed for a moment unable to take it in. But the next, a wicked gleam shone in his eyes, and he smacked his lips.
"Well, Lady Betty or no, I've kissed her," he cried. "I've kissed her, and she can't wipe it off!"
"You wicked boy!" Sophia cried, with indignation. "Do you consider that she was my guest, under my care, and you have insulted her? Grossly and outrageously insulted her, sir! She leaves to-morrow in consequence, and what am I to say to her people? What am I to tell them? Oh, Tom, it was cruel! it was cruel of you!"
"I'm afraid," Sir Hervey said, with a touch of sternness, "you were rough with her."
Tom's momentary jubilation died away. His face was gloomy.
"I'll say anything you like," he muttered doggedly, "except that I'm sorry, for I'm not. But I'll beg her pardon humbly. Of course, I should not have done it if I'd known who she was."
"She won't see you," Sophia answered.