"Do you think I do not understand?" he said, with a covert sneer, that had the keenness, and hardness, and the brightness of steel.
"I do not, Sir," said Fleda.
"Do you think I do not know whom you came here to meet?"
Fleda's glance of reproach was a most innocent one, but it did not check him.
"Has that fellow renewed his old admiration of you?" he went on, in the same tone.
"Do not make me desire his old protection," said Fleda, her gentle face roused to a flush of displeasure.
"Protection!" said Charlton, coming in, "who wants protection? here it is protection from what? my old friend Lewis? what the deuce does this lady want of protection, Mr. Thorn?"
It was plain enough that Fleda wanted it, from the way she was drooping upon his arm.
"You may ask the lady herself," said Thorn, in the same tone he had before used; "I have not the honour to be her spokesman."
"She don't need one," said Charlton; "I addressed myself to you speak for yourself, man."