"
"That's what I mean."
"Oh!" he said, perplexed. Then, as if his stupidity called for an
explanation: "I had a beastly night. Didn't go to bed till four. But,
I say, why can't I have the same privilege as these other chaps?
Corwith makes love to you and so does Odwell, and, hang it, they're
both married. It's rotten mean of--"
"Their wives are accountable for their manners, not I. But, come; will
you go to Renwood's with me?"
"I'd rather talk to you in that nice little corner of the
billiard-room, at home, if you--"
"But I don't need a brandy and soda. Oh!" This exclamation came with
the discovery of an approaching horseman. "It's Mr. Shaw--I'm sure."
Randolph Shaw, loyal to his feudal promise, appeared in the road a
couple of hundred yards away. He drew rein and from that distance
surveyed the two who were so near to encroaching upon his preserves.
He sat straight and forbidding in the saddle. For a full minute
the two factions stared at each other. Then, without a sign of
recognition, Shaw turned and rode rapidly away.
"He rides like a gentleman," commented Miss Drake, after reflection.
"Indian blood in him," remarked her companion.
"Let us go home," said she, whirling her horse like a flash. The duke
had some difficulty in keeping abreast of her during the ride and
he lost sight of her altogether after they dismounted at Bazelhurst
Villa.
The momentary glimpse of a real man set Penelope's opinions on edge
for the remainder of the day and night.
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