They think I am to be
caught with a bait; and that bait is each one's own enchanting daughter.
Let them angle, an they please--it does no harm. They are amused, and I
am none the worse. I enjoy a laugh sometimes, while I take care of
myself; as I have need to do, or I might find myself the victim of some
detestable breach-of-promise affair, and have to stand damages. But for
Anne Ashton, Val would have had his head in that Westminster-noose a
score of times; and the wonder is that he has kept out of it. No, thank
you, my ladies; I am not a marrying man."
"Why do you tell me this?" asked Lady Maude, a sick faintness stealing
over her face and heart.
"You are one of ourselves, and I tell you anything. It will be fun for
you, Maude, if you'll open your eyes and look on. There are some in the
house now who--" He stopped and laughed.
"I would rather not hear this!" she cried passionately. "Don't tell me."
Lord Hartledon looked at her, begged her pardon, and quitted the room
with his cigar. Lady Maude, black as night, dashed her pencil on to the
cardboard, and scored her sketch all over with ugly black lines. Her face
itself looked ugly then.
"Why did he say this to me?" she asked of her fevered heart. "Was it said
with a purpose? Has he found out that I _love_ him? that my shallow old
mother is one of the subtlest of the anglers? and that--"
"What on earth are you at with your drawing, Maude?"
"Oh, I have grown sick of the sketch.
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