And she made as though to withdraw without deigning a second glance toward Robin, who had risen, and stood there a veritable statue of amazement and mortification. But Barbara caught her by both hands and drew her to the table. "Nonsense, Prue!" she laughed, "Do you think I am going to let you run off like that? Sinking with fatigue indeed! I’ll warrant you will flutter from ball-room to ball-room for the next two hours if I do not keep you here. Captain de Cliffe and I were about to bore each other to death over a tête-à-tête supper and you have come like a good fairy to preserve us from yawning in each other’s face—(Prue smiled satirically)—at least sup with me, dear Gossip; ’twill rest you more than going home to bed." "My chair waits—" Prue began, though not without signs of hesitation. "What matters that? It shall be dismissed and I will send you home in mine." "The temptation of returning in such state as that is well-nigh irresistible," Prue conceded, feeling that she had been sufficiently coaxed to do what she particularly wanted to do without sacrificing her dignity. She began to unfasten the mantle in which she was enveloped, but when Robin sprang forward to assist her, she allowed it to drop to the floor and walked away, leaving him to pick it up if he pleased. "You will stay, then," cried Barbara; "that is delightful. I will order another cover and a bottle of your favorite Chambertin, and we will have a little festival to wish your friend _bon voyage_." And she rustled away; more out of compassion for Robin’s disconcerted aspect than the mere impulse of hospitality. Prue seated herself behind a bank of flowering shrubs, as far away as the little conservatory would allow, and after a momentary hesitation, Robin followed. "Have I been so unfortunate as to incur your displeasure, dearest?" he inquired anxiously. "My displeasure, sir? Certainly not," she replied. "What can it matter to _me_ how many ladies’ hands you kiss?" At this Robin (who, although a novice in love, was no fool,) was completely relieved. He was even quite elated over the little display of jealousy which proved that Prue was far from indifferent to him. "When I am not with you, dear Prue," he said in a tone of gentle reproach, "my heart is so full of you that it flows over with gratitude to any one who will but utter your name. If you had heard what Lady Barbara was saying about you, you would not have been surprised to see me embrace her feet instead of her hand." "What did she say?" asked Prue, her curiosity overcoming her petulance. "She said many things in praise of the dearest of women," said Robin, taking courage to seat himself beside her, "but, best of all, she assured me that not one of all your scores of suitors could boast of half the interest you had shown to-day in the poor outlaw. Do you wonder that I kissed her hand?"