"It is a fact, my lord. I asked her her name, and she told me
Leoline - a pretty title enough, but rather unsatisfactory."
"How long have you known her?"
"To the best of my belief," said Ormiston, musingly, "about four
hours."
"Nonsense!" cried the earl, energetically. "What are you telling
me, Ormiston? You said she was an old friend."
"I beg your pardon, my lord, I said no such thing. I told you
she had escaped from her friends, which was strictly true."
"Then how the demon had you the impudence to come up and carry
her off in that style? I certainly had a better right to her
than you - the right of discovery; and I shall call upon you to
deliver her up!"
"If she belonged to me I should only be too happy to oblige your
lordship," laughed Ormiston; "but she is at present the property
of Sir Norman Kingsley, and to him you must apply."
"Ah! His inamorata, in she? Well, I must say his taste is
excellent; but I should think you ought to know her name, since
you and he are noted for being a modern Damon and Pythias."
"Probably I should, my lord, only Sir Norman, unfortunately, does
not know himself."
The earl's countenance looked so utterly blank at this
announcement, that Ormiston was forced to throw in a word of
explanation.
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