"
"Oh, bother the credit and who's been right or wrong! We've both
made a muddle of it. George Emerson is still down the garden
there, and is he to be left unpunished, or isn't he? I want to
know."
Miss Bartlett was absolutely helpless. Her own exposure had
unnerved her, and thoughts were colliding painfully in her brain.
She moved feebly to the window, and tried to detect the cad's
white flannels among the laurels.
"You were ready enough at the Bertolini when you rushed me off to
Rome. Can't you speak again to him now?"
"Willingly would I move heaven and earth--"
"I want something more definite," said Lucy contemptuously. "Will
you speak to him? It is the least you can do, surely, considering
it all happened because you broke your word."
"Never again shall Eleanor Lavish be a friend of mine."
Really, Charlotte was outdoing herself.
"Yes or no, please; yes or no."
"It is the kind of thing that only a gentleman can settle."
George Emerson was coming up the garden with a tennis ball in his
hand.
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