She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he kept his mouth shut.
“And now, Mr. Allen,” I said, “to what do I owe the pain of this visit?”
“The pain!” he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit of laughter. “By the mass! your politeness drowns me. But I like you, Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else. For I have seen a deal of rogues in my day.”
“And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen.”
“So they have,” he cried, and laughed the more. “Egad, Miss Dorothy, you have saved all of him, I think.” Then he swung round upon me, very careless. “Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, Richard?” he asked.
That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her chair.
“Grafton Carvel in London?” I exclaimed.
“Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army. They arrived, before yesterday, from New York.”
“And to what is this an introduction?” I demanded.
“I merely thought it strange,” said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, “that he had not called to inquire after his nephew's health.”