Part 56 (2/2)
At that her face flamed and her wool dropped into her lap. She did not look at me but sat with gaze ahead of her as though considering.
At last: ”Do you mean Captain Watts?” she asked.
”Yes, I mean him.”
”He is not my lover.”
”I ask your pardon. The inference was as natural as my error.”
”Sir?”
”Appearances,” said I, ”are proverbially deceitful. Instead of saying 'your lover,' I should, perhaps, have said '_one_ of your lovers.' And so again ask pardon.”
”Are you my lover, sir?”
”I?” said I, taken aback at the direct shot so unexpected.
”Yes, you, my lord. Are you one of my lovers?”
”I think not. Why do you ask me that which never could be a question that yes or no need answer?”
”I thought perhaps you might deem yourself my lover.”
”Why?”
”Because you kissed me once,--as did Captain Watts.... And two other gentlemen.”
”Two other gentlemen?”
”Yes, sir. A cornet of horse,--his name escapes me--and Sir John.”
”Who!” I blurted angrily.
”Sir John Johnson.”
”The dissolute beast!” said I. ”Had I known it that night at Johnson Hall----” But here I checked my speech and waited till the hot blood in my face was done burning.
And when again I was cool: ”I am sorry for my heat,” said I. ”Your conduct is your own affair.”
”You once made it yours, sir,--for a moment.”
Again I went hot and red; and how I had conducted with this maid plagued me so that I found no word to answer.
She knitted for a little while. Then, lifting her dark young eyes:
”You have as secure a t.i.tle to be my lover as has any man, Mr. Drogue.
Which is no t.i.tle at all.”
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