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Now, in that circle of society in which it had pleased Providence to place Percival it was considered the height of bad form to exhibit an emotion. His imagination could not picture one of the ladies of Hascombe Hall sitting in a public place with her hair tumbled over her face, and her shoulders shaking with sobs.
As their palms met, and her small fingers closed responsively over his, such a thrill of satisfaction passed over him as he had never felt before. His old wounds were suddenly healed, life became a passionate love-song on a languorous, moonlit sea. But his ecstasy ceased with the music. "If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are welcome to it.
Instead she leaned nonchalantly against the wall and began braiding her hair. "I know your name, too," she said, with a look half daring and half quizzical. "I looked you up on the passenger-list." "But how did you know " "Oh, it was easy to spot you. You were the only man on board who would fit 'The Honorable Percival Hascombe and Valet." Percival found her scoffing tone intolerable.
Her birth and position were equal to his own; her beauty, if attenuated, was sufficient; while her discriminating taste amounted to a virtue. The Honorable Percival proffered his hand, and was accepted. Hascombe Hall rang with applause. All might have been well had not mother and daughter been pressed to seal the compact by a closer intimacy in a ten-days' visit at the hall.
When his third round brought him in front of her, and he saw that she was awake, he carefully adjusted his monocle, and turned upon her a look that was not unfamiliar to certain menials in the employ of Hascombe Hall. But no withering blight followed his look. Instead, the wearer of the gaudy coat sat up suddenly and said, with a radiant smile: "Well, did you ever! Where did you come from?"
Why, you can gallop for miles with your horse's hoofs sinking into beds of prairie roses!" "But it's virtually green in England all the year round. I'd like to show you a well-run English estate. Rather a pretty sight. Hascombe Hall's a fairly decent example. Some hundreds of acres, don't you know." "Some hundreds!" repeated Bobby, scornfully.
Faults that in Miss Boynton of the Big Gully Ranch would be glaring iniquities would, in the wife of the Honorable Percival Hascombe, dwindle away to charming eccentricities. A daring plan occurred to him.
His elder brother, having persistently refused to provide himself with a wife and heir, the duty of perpetuating the family name fell upon him, Percival Hascombe, second son of the late Earl of Westenhanger, of Hascombe Hall, fifth in descent from the great Westenhanger whose marble effigy adorns the dullest and most respectable cathedral in southern England.
"When I see a man show courage like that, I just feel as if as if I'd like to squeeze him." Percival's left hand shot out and caught hers to his lips. "Why, Mr. Hascombe!" she cried "What's the matter with your arm? No, I mean the other one." "A mere scratch." "But your sleeve's cut, and the handkerchief is all blood-stained. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" "I assure you it is nothing.
The Fords may be plain people, but, by Jugs! they are the sort to tie up to in a squall." Bobby smiled broadly under the brim of her hat. "Then you advise me to take Hal?" "I advise you to let me send this fellow Hascombe about his business. I'll make short work of him." Bobby slipped her arm through his, and looked up saucily. "You needn't bother, dear," she said.
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