"Well, are you coming?" said Reginald, ironically, "or do _you_ like
young women better than old ones?"
Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand on
the palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald.
"That's your _boy,"_ said Mrs. Bassett.
Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp.
"What is the matter, darling?"
"The fighting--the blood"--said Ruperta, sobbing.
Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her.
When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyed
the thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character,
and for having insulted her father.
All of a sudden, she cried out, "He has taken my handkerchief. How dare
he?" And she affected anger.
"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, "we have got his
tippet."
CHAPTER XLIII.
COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waiting
for Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body,
the terrible agitation of the mind. She rose--she sat down--she walked
about with wild energy--she dropped on the sofa, and appeared to give
it up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way to
impatient restlessness again.
At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied by
no rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's.
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