"I allow you the privileges of a gentleman, Mr. Boyce."

"Gentleman? Oh Lud, no, ma'am. I am an upper servant. Rather better than
the butler. Not so good as the steward."

"It won't serve you, sir. You have insulted me, and I demand
satisfaction." She drew off her gauntleted glove and flicked him in the
face with it. "Now will you fight?"

"Oh, must we slap and scratch then?" Harry flushed darker than the mark
of the glove. "I thought we had been fighting."

Miss Lambourne laughed. "You can lose your temper then? It's something,
in fact. Yes, we have been fighting, sir, and you don't fight fair."

"Who does with a woman?" Harry sneered. "I cry you mercy, ma'am. You are
vastly too strong for me. Let me alone and I ask no more of you."

To which Miss Lambourne said, very innocently, "Why?" Harry looked up and
saw her beautiful face meek and appealing, with something of a demure
smile in the eyes. "Come, sir, what have I asked of you? You have done
me something of a great service. There was a man handling me--do you know
what that means? "--she made a wry face and gave herself a shaking
shudder--"You rid me of him, and with some risk to your precious skin.
Well, sir, I am grateful, and I want to show it. Odds life, I should be a
beast did I not. I want to thank you and to sing your praises--to
yourself also perhaps. And you are pleased to be a churl and a boor."

"In effect," said Harry coolly. "Egad, ma'am, let me have the luxury of
hating you. For I am the Wavertons' gentleman usher and you are the