"But he's dangerous."
"I can trounce such. Did it at school, and can remember the trick."
A lady came moving onward. She had that in her gait which showed command, her bonnet puckered to the front, a fat aunt trailing behind. They came steadily. It was Aminta with her aunt.
Lord Ormont, his temper ablaze like his manuscript, thirty-four pages, neither more nor less, fortifications planned, advice given gratis to the loutish neglecting nation, stepped forward.
"You must remove her," he declared to Weyburn.
"But the aunt?" questioned Matey.
"She must go too. See to it quickly!" He fell back, the irrevocable quivering in his eyeball, destiny mocking with careless glee, while Morsfield and a bully-captain saw their chances and just missed the taking.
Away they clattered, Matey and Aminta, leaving the Pagnell to her passion-breathing Morsfield.
End of Vol. II.