"You ought to have told me, Lord Mount Dunstan." He slightly shrugged his big shoulders.
"Why shouldn't you take me for a keeper?
You crossed the Atlantic with a fourth-rate looking fellow separated from you by barriers of wood and iron.

You came upon him tramping over a nobleman's estate in shabby corduroys and gaiters, with a gun over his shoulder and a scowl on his ugly face.

Why should you leap to the conclusion that he is the belted Earl himself?
There is no cause for embarrassment." "I am not embarrassed," said Bettina.
"That is what I like," gruffly.
"I am pleased," in her mellowest velvet voice, "that you like it." Their eyes met with a singular directness of gaze.

Between them a spark passed which was not afterwards to be extinguished, though neither of them knew the moment of its kindling, and Mount Dunstan slightly frowned.
"I beg pardon," he said.

"You are quite right.