He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Best assured of that. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. "Captain Darren," he added, sternly, "you shall hear from me. I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame.
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