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Who said that England would ever lose her proud place among the nations when she could still find men like Oliver Kelly or Kattle or Cuttle, or whatever this man was called, amongst her obscure merchant captains? Even Mr.
Turning away he caught the eyes of his wife riveted on them; she had evidently seen the meeting, and her colour was high. Lord Hartledon walked straight into the next room, and Maude went up to Anne. "How do you do, Miss Ashton? I am so glad to meet you. I have just heard you were here from Mrs. Kattle. You have been speaking to my husband."
It was really a crush just then in the room; and though Maude escaped from it dexterously, Lord Hartledon did not. He was wedged in behind some stout women, and had the pleasure of hearing another word or two from Mrs. Kattle. "Who was that?" asked a lady, who appeared to be her companion. "Lady Hartledon.
He caught the name Kattle; and being a somewhat singular name, he recognised it for that of the lady who had been sojourning at Cannes, and had sent the news of Miss Ashton's supposed engagement to the countess-dowager. There was the usual babble on both sides where each was staying, had been staying, would be staying; and then Lord Hartledon heard the following words from Mrs. Kattle.
"Well, I think it's 'Kattle' mostly, though one paper has it 'Kelly." "Curse their cheek," said the little sailor, flushing. "I'd like to get hold of some of those blowsy editors that come smelling round the dock after yarns and drink, and wring their necks."
If ever a spark of feeling for her husband arose within Maude's heart, it was when she thought of Anne Ashton. She was bitterly jealous of her still. "Yes, here; I saw them not three minutes ago. They are only now on their road home from Cannes. Fancy their making so long a stay!" "You wrote mamma word that Miss Ashton was about to marry some Colonel Barnaby." Mrs. Kattle laughed.
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