Sir Frederick had pricked up his ears. ‘Is Lady Dimsdale going away?’ he asked.
‘Did you not know? She had letters this morning—so she says—which necessitate her immediate return home. I am quite angry with her.’
‘Ah, ah! nearly had you that time,’ exclaimed the Captain, after another abortive attempt to slaughter one of his tormentors.
Sir Frederick rose and crossed to where Lady Dimsdale was sitting. ‘You are busy this morning, Lady Dimsdale,’ he said.
‘Extremely so. This young person was no longer fit for decent society, so I have taken her in hand, and am trying to make her presentable. But you don’t understand millinery, Sir Frederick.’
‘My misfortune.’
‘It is a pity. But, as a rule, your sex are very ignorant.’
‘You are about to leave us, Mrs Bowood tells me.’
‘Yes; the three o’clock express will carry me away to “fresh woods and pastures new.”’
‘I am grieved to hear that.’