“I did not mean that; I thought she was about my own age,” protested Franceline with vivacity; “but when one is so much admired as Lady Emily seemed to be that night at Dullerton, one wonders she is not carried off by some devoted admirer.”
“Then you noticed that she had a great many? Would it be unfair to ask a few names?”
“Mr. de Winton for one seemed very devoted.”
“De Winton! Humph! Who else?”
“Why do you say ‘humph’? Is there reason why he should not be amongst the number?”
“Rather—that is to say perhaps—in fact, thereby hangs a tale.” His face wore a quizzical expression as he spoke.
“What tale?” She looked round with a quick, curious glance.
“Oh! it’s not fair to tell tales out of school, is it?”
“Certainly not; I had no idea there was a secret in the way,” said Franceline, bridling.
Ponsonby was not gifted with the knack of calm irrelevance; instead of dropping the subject and turning to something else, he resumed presently: