“I'm quite ready,” said Tom. “I'll either fight or make friends, as suits Monsieur Zephyrus best.”
This was said in such a good-natured way that it pleased the Frenchman, and he seemed disposed to make up the quarrel.
“I'm sorry I hurt you, for I don't believe you're half a bad fellow,” said Tom. “There, will that suffice?”
“Parfaitement,” replied Zephyrus, taking the hand offered him.
“Bravo!” cried Higgins. “Now let us all have a glass of champagne, and then we'll go back to the ball-room. We must have a reel.”
“No more dancing for me,” said Tom.
“Nonsense!” cried his father. “I insist that you dance with Clotilde.”
“Do you consent, Monsieur?” said Tom, with a droll look at Zephyrus. “She now belongs to you.”
“You shall have her back altogether, if you like,” replied the Frenchman.
“Nay, I won't tax your generosity so far,” said Tom, with a laugh.