"No? Where else would you go, Tom?"
"To London," announced Moore, dramatically. "To London, Bessie, and once there I 'll take Dame Fortune by the throat and strangle the hussy till she gives me what I deserve."
"Ah," cried Bessie, "that would be splendid, Tom!"
"I 'd go to-morrow only I dare n't leave you, darlin', for fear you will be stolen from me in my absence."
"What do you mean?" asked Bessie, looking at him in surprise.
"As though you did not know, Bessie!" answered Moore, rising to his feet. "I mean this Sir Percival Lovelace, who is seen so often in your company of late. Lord Brooking's friend. Don't I know what he is after when I see a great gentleman like him, the odor of Court still in his ruffles, walking and talking with a pretty bit of a school-teacher like you?"
Bessie flushed a little, but her tone was sad instead of angry when she answered:
"Tom, have you no faith in me?"
"Well, it is precious little I have in Sir Percival," he replied, turning away angrily, "and the less you have the better it will be for you."
Bessie's eyes twinkled maliciously. Here was her chance to pay her lover back for some of the plaguements he had practised upon her.