"By my soul, I did not. How could I? She was forty if she was a day, and ugly as sin."
His partner's laugh pealed out again. There was no resisting such an implication.
"Very nicely put, Mr. Lanyon. Now I know that you are Irish."
Just then Mrs. Beauchamp called to them:
"Come, come, Mr. Lanyon. I cannot allow this. You are monopolizing Miss MacAllister and delaying the play."
"By my faith," was the quick reply, "it's myself that would be mortial glad to monopolize her."
"Oh, Mr. Lanyon, this is shocking. On less than half an hour's acquaintance, too! If you say anything more like that I'll not be your partner."
"Then, if there's any danger of your leaving me, I'll take it all back with my mouth; but I'll think it in my heart just the same."
Carteret's pale face, a little paler to-day than usual, had the same expression of studied contempt as when he met Sinclair the evening before. His lips parted to utter some sarcastic remark when Mrs. Beauchamp interposed:
"It's your service, Miss MacAllister. Will you not begin?"