"I am very sorry to hear it," said I.
The griffon, who had been sniffing at Carlotta's skirts, suddenly
leaped into her lap. With a swift movement of her hand she swept
the poor little creature, as if it had been a noxious insect,
yards away.
"Carlotta!" I cried angrily, springing to my feet.
The ladies who owned the beast rushed to their whining pet and
looked astonished daggers at Carlotta. When they picked it up,
it sat dangling a piteous paw. Carlotta rose, merely scared at
my anger. I raised my hat.
"I am more than sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I hope
the little dog is not hurt. My ward, for whom I offer a thousand
apologies, is a Mohammedan, to whom all dogs are unclean. Please
attribute the accident to religious instinct."
The younger of the two, who had been examining the paw, looked up
with a smile.
"Your ward is forgiven. Punch oughtn't to jump on strange
ladies' laps, whether they are Mohammedans or not. Oh! he is
more frightened than hurt. And I," she added, with a twinkling
eye, "am more hurt than frightened, because Sir Marcus Ordeyne
doesn't recognise me.
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