Drake promised that he would not relate the little farce to his uncle,
and got her cloak and took her down to the Angleford carriage. As he put
her in and closed the door, she gave him her hand, and smiled at him
with a little air of triumph and appeal.
"We are friends, aren't we?" she asked.
"The best of friends, Lady Angleford," he replied. "Good night."
He went back to say good night to Lady Northgate.
"You played it rather low down upon me, didn't you?" he remarked.
"My dear Drake, what could I do?" she exclaimed. "That poor little woman
was so terribly anxious to gain your good will. She didn't understand in
the least the harm she was doing you. And what will you do? She is
immensely rich--her father was an American millionaire----"
Drake's face hardened. One thing at least he knew he couldn't do: he
could not bring himself to accept charity from Lady Angleford. Lady
Northgate understood the frown.
"Don't kill me before all these people, Drake!" she said. "I dare say
it's very silly of me, but I can't help plotting for your welfare. You
see, I am foolish enough to be rather fond of you. There! Go down and
drink that soda and whisky with Harry. If you won't let your friends
help you, what will you do?"
"I give it up; ask me another. Don't you worry about me, my dear lady; I
shall jog along somehow."