"'Pon my life, it's too bad!" he was saying mentally. "I don't know what
things are coming to; there ought to be a stop put to it, a line must be
drawn somewhere; and such women oughtn't to be permitted to speak of a
lady in that chaify way."
While these reflections occupied his mind he was giving scraps of news
to Nina, and answering Mrs. Chetwode, who was frankly saying that she
hadn't a morsel of dinner to give him.
"But I don't want any, I've only just had a most enormous luncheon."
"Luncheon! Where?"
"Why, my dear, at the station--ham, beef, beer--you know--veal pie--that
sort o' thing."
"Rowley! how could you! You'll be awfully ill, you know."
"Not a bit of it, not I. I--" but at this moment rat-tat-a-tat-tat went
the knocker.
Oh! agony--there wasn't a doubt this was Teddy!
"I say, what a game--here's another visitor!" remarked Captain Dacres
cheerily.
"One who is expected, I shouldn't wonder." Mrs. Chetwode, as usual, rose
equal to the emergency. "We may as well let the cat out of the bag,
Nina, and tell him.--We've got a young man coming to take us to the
play," and turning to Martin she said, "Show him into the boudoir if
that's Mr. Vere."
"Mr. Vere! What, Teddy! Here, stop, I'll open the door!" exclaimed
Rowley hastily "Don't you go"
"But why?" interposed Mrs.
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