‘I really think, Dulcie,’ said Richard, ‘that you might give us a little of your company now and then, instead of running all over the county like a madcap with all the tatterdemalions in the village. I wish we were back in Dublin, with civilized people about us.’ ‘Really, Mr. Conseltine,’ said Dulcie quietly, but with a manner which marked her sense of the side-sneer at Desmond, ‘I can choose my society without your assistance.’ The lowering look which always rested on Richard’s heavy features deepened. ‘No, you can’t,’ he said roughly; ‘or, at all events, you don’t. You’re getting yourself talked about all over the county, wandering about like a girl off the hillside with any vagabond who----’ ‘I beg your pardon,’ interrupted Desmond, with great smoothness of manner, but with a dangerous glitter in his eyes, ‘but civility costs nothing, Mr. Richard. Were you alluding to me at all?’ ‘Well,’ said Richard, trying hard to revert to his usual manner of heavy insolence, but speaking angrily, ‘and what if I was?’ ‘Why----’ returned Desmond, rising. ‘Don’t be afraid, Lady Dulcie, I’m not going to quarrel. If I’ve said or done anything to give offence to this kind, civil-spoken, amiable young gentleman, I’m willing and anxious to apologize. What’s my offence, sir?’ ‘You hang too much about the Castle,’ said Richard. ‘I know his lordship encourages you, but you ought to know better than to presume on his good-nature.’ ‘Don’t you think,’ said Desmond quietly, ‘that you might leave his lordship to say that?’ ‘You’re not fit company for my cousin,’ cried Richard hotly. Dulcie rose with an exclamation of anger, but Desmond laid his hand upon her arm, and she remained silent. ‘And don’t you think,’ continued Desmond again, ‘that you might leave that for your cousin to say? She hasn’t said it yet.’ ‘Said it!’ cried Dulcie, in a white heat of anger; ‘why should I say it? A gentleman is fit company for anybody.’ ‘A gentleman!’ sneered Richard. ‘A gentleman! Yes, but you should be able to tell the difference between the real article and the counterfeit.’ ‘Oh!’ said Desmond, quietly still, but with more keenly glittering eyes and a pulsating voice. ‘And I suppose I’m the counterfeit? Is that what you mean?’ ‘That is just what I mean,’ returned Richard. ‘Then,’ said Desmond, ‘if Lady Dulcie will do us the honour to leave us to ourselves, or if you’ll kindly step out on the lawn, the counterfeit will give the real article a taste of his quality.’ ‘Desmond!’ cried Dulcie. ‘All right, Lady Dulcie,’ said Desmond, soothing her with his hand, and keeping his eye on Richard’s face. The girl let the endearing tone and action pass unregarded. They stung Richard to fury. ‘You beggar!’ he cried. Desmond made a step towards him; Dulcie clung to him, beseeching him to be quiet.