“In which case, I could not have said what I intended.” Though this was said apologetically, there was a saucy defiance in her look that declared anything rather than apology. “Your remark,” said he, “reminds me of an Irish squire I heard of, who, wanting to get rid of the charge in his pistol, fired it out of the window into a crowd, saying, ‘I hope it won’t hurt any of you!’ Have you been in Ireland, Mademoiselle?” “I have seen next to nothing of Ireland; far too little to have caught up, as you infer, any traits of her nationality.” There was not the slightest tremor in her voice, nor change in her colour as she spoke, though Grenfell watched her with more--far more--intentness than he was aware of, or would have permitted himself to bestow, if he had known it. “I know very little of the green island myself,” said he. “I once made a yachting excursion with a friend to the West--the same friend to whom I am now indebted for the honour of knowing you.” Kate’s cheek grew crimson; she had mistaken the meaning of his words, and fancied that they referred to his meeting her first in Vyner’s company, and not to his possession of Vyner’s Cottage. “Will you let me present my friends--Mr. Ladarelle, Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle, Mr. Grenfell?” said Sir Within, at this critical moment, “and then, if you will give Mademoiselle your arm, we will go to dinner.” It required all the practised tact and consummate skill in such matters of Sir Within’s to carry through that day’s dinner. Kate scarcely spoke at all, the elder Ladarelle very little; the younger was evidently bent on finding out who Grenfell was, what were his clubs, his houses, and his associates; and Grenfell, not at all unused to such assaults of curiosity, repelled them by a cold and distant politeness, which gave little aid to table-talk. So that on the old envoy was thrown all the burden of the entertainment.