"It seems you had your curiosity, too, my lord," said Mr.
Carleton, the uncle.
"Which ought, in all justice, to have lacked gratification," said Lady Peterborough. "I hope Fleda will not be too ready to forgive you."
"I expect forgiveness, nevertheless," said he, looking at
Fleda. "Must I wait for it?"
"I am much obliged to you, Sir."
And then she gave him a very frank smile and blush, as she added, "I beg pardon you know my tongue is American."
"I don't like that," said his lordship, gravely.
"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," said the elder Carleton. "The heart being English, we may hope the tongue will become so too."
"I will not assure you of that, Sir," Fleda said, laughing, though her cheeks showed the conversation was not carried on without effort. Oddly enough, nobody saw it with any dissatisfaction.
"Of what, Madam?" said Lord Peterborough.
"That I will not always keep a rag of the stars and stripes flying somewhere."