Part 44 (2/2)
”What was he saying to you?” asks he _a propos_ of Chesney.
”Nothing,” promptly.
Taffy, curiously: ”Well, certainly that _was_ very disagreeable.”
Lilian, demurely: ”It was.”
At this Taffy lays his hands upon her shoulders and gives her a good shake.
”Tell me directly,” says he, ”what he was saying to you.”
”How can I?” innocently; ”he says so much and none of it worth repeating.”
”Was he making love to you?”
”No. Oh, no,” mildly.
”I'm certain he was,” with conviction. ”And look here, Lil, don't you have anything to do with him: he isn't up to the mark by any means. He is too dark, and there is something queer about his eyes. I once saw a man who had cut the throats of his mother, his grandmother, and all his nearest relations,--any amount of them,--and his eyes were just like Chesney's. Don't marry him, whatever you do.”
”I won't,” laughing: ”I should hate to have my throat cut.”
”There's Chetwoode, now,” says Taffy, who begins to think himself a very deep and delicate diplomatist. ”He is a very decent fellow all round if you like.”
”I do like, certainly. It is quite a comfort to know Sir Guy is not indecent.”
”Oh, you know what I mean well enough. There's nothing underhand about Chetwoode. By the bye, what have you been doing to him? He is awfully down on his luck all day.”
”I!” coldly. ”What should I do to Sir Guy?”
”I don't know, I'm sure, but girls have a horrid way of teasing a fellow while pretending to be perfectly civil to him all the time. It is my private opinion,” says Mr. Musgrave, mysteriously,--”and I flatter myself I am seldom wrong,--that he is dead spoons on you.”
”Really, Taffy!” begins Lilian, angrily.
”Yes, he is: you take my word for it. I'm rather a judge in such matters. Bet you a fiver,” says Mr. Musgrave, ”he proposes to you before the year is out.”
”I wonder, Taffy, how you can be so vulgar!” says Lilian, with crimson cheeks, and a fine show of superior breeding. ”I never bet. I forbid you to speak to me on this subject again. Sir Guy, I a.s.sure you, has as much intention of proposing to me as I have of accepting him should he do so.”
”More fool you,” says Taffy, unabashed. ”I'm sure he is much nicer than that melancholy Chesney. If I were a girl I should marry him straight off.”
”Perhaps he would not marry you,” replies Lilian, cuttingly.
”Wouldn't he? he would like a shot, if I were like Lilian Chesney,” says Taffy, positively.
”'Like a shot'--what does that mean?” says Miss Chesney, with withering sarcasm. ”It is a pity you cannot forget your schoolboy slang, and try to be a gentleman. I don't think you over hear that 'decent fellow' Sir Guy, or even that cut-throat Archibald, use it.”
With this parting shaft she marches off overflowing with indignation, leaving Mr. Musgrave lost in wonder at her sudden change of manner.
”What on earth is up with her now?” he asks himself, desperately; but the dressing-bell ringing at this moment disarms thought, and sends him in-doors to prepare for dinner.
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