Mr.Caryll laughed silently.
"I'll not be married! I'll not be married!" It was the lady who spoke, and those odd words were the first that Mr.
Caryll heard from her lips.

They made an excellent impression upon him, bearing witness to her good sense and judgment--although belatedly aroused--and informing him, although the pitch was strained just now; that the rich contralto of her voice was full of music.

He was a judge of voices, as of much else besides.
"Hoity-toity!" quoth his lordship, between petulance and simulated amusement.

"What's all the pother?
Hortensia, dear--" "I'll not be married!" she repeated firmly, her wide brown eyes meeting his in absolute defiance, head thrown back, face pale but fearless.
"I don't believe," ventured Mr.Caryll, "that you could be if you desired it.

Leastways not here and now and by this." And he jerked a contemptuous thumb sideways at Mr.Jenkins, toward whom he had turned his shoulder.