“And Cousin Lot—?”

“Can you fight, Richard?”

“Well, I am not much of a swordsman. But if Sir Peter thinks—”

“That you have paid undue attention to his dear daughter—”

“Yes—”

“You will sacrifice your virgin honor, eh?”

“Aunt Letitia, I trust I shall never act dishonorably by any woman.”

The dowager shut up her fan suddenly with a snap, yawned, and announced that she was going to her chamber.

“You are an incorrigible fool, Richard,” she said, contemptuously; “please ring for my maid. I see that it is quite useless to reason with such a saint.”

III