"Not since morning. Am I walking too fast for you?"
"Not at all. One couldn't ask to be put off more considerately."
"By Jove," he said involuntarily, his admiration getting the hotter of him.
"I beg your pardon," with the slightly elevated eyebrows.
"Do you know, you're not at all what I imagined you'd be."
"Oh? And I fancy I'm not at all whom you imagined me to be."
"Heavens! Am I ejecting an innocent bystander? You are Lady
Bazelhurst?"
"I am Penelope Drake. But"—she added quickly—"I am an enemy. I am
Lord Bazelhurst's sister."
"You—you don't mean it?"
"Are you disappointed? I'm sorry."