“Betrayed you! what nonsense you talk.  In what have I betrayed you?”

“You set him upon my track here, though you knew I desired to avoid him.”

“And is that all?  I was coming here to this detestable island, and I told my brother.  That is my offence—­and then you talk of betraying!  Julie, you sometimes are a goose.”

“Very often, no doubt; but, Madam Gordeloup, if you please we will be geese apart for the future.”

“Oh, certainly; if you wish it.”

“I do wish it.”

“It cannot hurt me.  I can choose my friends anywhere.  The world is open to me to go where I please into society.  I am not at a loss.”

All this Lady Ongar well understood, but she could bear it without injury to her temper.  Such revenge was to be expected from such a woman “I do not want you to be at a loss,” she said.  “I only want you to understand that after what has this evening occurred between your brother and me, our acquaintance had better cease.”

“And I am to be punished for my brother?”

“You said just now that it would be no punishment, and I was glad to hear it.  Society is, as you say, open to you, and you will lose nothing.”

“Of course society is open to me.  Have I committed myself?  I am not talked about for my lovers by all the town.  Why should I be at a loss?  No.”

“I shall return to London to-morrow by the earliest opportunity.  I have already told them so, and have ordered a carriage to go to Yarmouth at eight.”

“And you leave me here, alone!”

“Your brother is here, Madam Gordeloup.”

“My brother is nothing to me.  You know well that.  He has come and can go when he please.  I come here to follow you—­to be companion to you, to oblige you—­and now you say you go and leave me in this detestable barrack.  If I am here alone, I will be revenged.”

“You shall go back with me if you wish it.”

“At eight o’clock in the morning—­and see, it is now eleven; while you have been wandering about alone with my brother in the dark!  No; I will not go so early morning as that.  To-morrow is Saturday—­you was to remain till Tuesday.”

“You may do as you please.  I will go at eight to-morrow.”

“Very well.  You go at eight, very well.  And who will pay for the ‘beels’ when you are gone, Lady Ongar?”

“I have already ordered the bill up to-morrow morning.  If you will allow me to offer you twenty pounds, that will bring you to London when you please to follow.”

“Twenty pounds!  What is twenty pounds?  No; I will not have your twenty pounds.”  And she pushed away from her the two notes which Lady Ongar had already put upon the table.  “Who is to pay me for the loss of all my time?  Tell me that.  I have devoted myself to you.  Who will pay me for that?”

“Not I, certainly, Madam Gordeloup.”

“Not you!  You will not pay me for my time—­for a whole year I have been devoted to you!  You will not pay me, and you send me away in this way?  By Gar, you will be made to pay—­through the nose.”