"And you won't—ask her to excuse you?"
"No."
"She'd let you go, if you reminded her that this is my birthday party."
"I shan't remind her."
Barbara threw up her chin and clasped her hands behind her.
"You think I can't make you take me in to supper?"
"I'm quite sure of it."
"I see. Well, ride your ways, Laird of Chepstow. They are waiting for me to head the procession. You had better take my place—with Violet. Tell them that I am not going down. And, if they ask why, say that I begged my cousin Lord Loring—as a present to me on my twenty-first birthday—to take me down to supper. Say that I was tired and hungry. You needn't say that you refused; they'll guess that."
She walked a few steps into the room; and Loring, after a moment's hesitation, followed her.
"Do behave yourself, Barbara," he whispered irritably.