Were you locked in your room?" enquired Sir Richard.
"Oh no! I daresay I should have been if Aunt had guessed what I meant to do, but she would never think of such a thing."
"Then--forgive my curiosity!--why did you climb out of the window?" asked Sir Richard.
"Oh, that was on account of Pug!" replied Pen sunnily.
"Pug?"
"Yes, a horrid little creature! He sleeps in a basket in the hall, and he always yaps if he thinks one is going out. That would have awakened Aunt Almeria. There was nothing else I could do."
Sir Richard regarded her with a lurking smile. "Naturally not. Do you know, Pen, I owe you a debt of gratitude?"
"Oh!" she said again. "Do you mean that I don't behave as a delicately bred femaile should?"
"That is one way of putting it, certainly."
"It is the way Aunt Almeria puts it."
"She would, of course."
"I am afraid," confessed Pen, "that I am not very well-behaved. Aunt says that I had a lamentable upbringing, because my father treated me as though I had been a boy. I ought to have been, you understand."
"I cannot agree with you," said Sir Richard. "As a boy you would have been in no way remarkable; as a female, believe me, you are unique."
She flushed to the roots of her hair. "I think that is a compliment."
"It is," Sir Richard said, amused.
"Well, I wasn't sure, because I am not out yet, and I do not know any men except my uncle and Fred, and they don't pay compliments. That is to say, not like that.

Auteur: Georgette Heyer