lord ticehurst's attachment to the turf was by no means of a lukewarm or of a perfunctory character. he was not one of the young men of the present day, who keep a racing-stud as they keep anything else, merely for their amusement; who exult indecently when they are successful, who are even more indecently depressed when they are unfortunate. having such a man as gilbert lloyd for his "confederate," manager, and agent, the young nobleman did not require to look into the details of his stud and his stable as he otherwise would have done; but nothing was ever done without his knowledge and approval, and his heart was as much bound up in turf-matters as it had been when, under the initiation of plater dobbs, he first made his entrance into the ring. perhaps if this attachment to racing-matters and racing-men had been less strong, lord ticehurst would have noticed a certain change in lloyd's manner towards him which would have displeased him much. for, notwithstanding that he struggled hard against the display of any such feeling, there arose in gilbert's breast a sullen animosity, a dogged dislike to his friend and patron, which very often would not be kept down, but came surging up into his face, and showed itself in knit brows and tightened lips, and hard cold insolence of bearing. this was very different from the deep and bitter hatred with which gilbert lloyd regarded miles challoner, though it sprung from the same cause, the admiration which each of them felt for gertrude. in the present state of his feelings for her, it enraged gilbert to think that anyone should dare to pay attention to one who had been, who by the law still was, his property: but the depth and measure of his hatred was very much acted upon by the knowledge that lord ticehurst was merely regarded by gertrude as one of a hundred hangers-on, while miles challoner stood in a very different position. but though this angry feeling from time to time got the better of gilbert lloyd's usually placid and equable temperament, and led to exhibitions of temper which he was afterwards frightened at and ashamed of, they were never noticed by the kindly-hearted, thick-headed young man whom he had in training, or, if they were, were ascribed to some of those "tighteners" and "botherations" which were supposed to fall naturally to "old gilbert's" lot in transacting his business of the turf. "there's bad news up from the pastures, i suppose," lord ticehurst would say to some of his friends, after the occurrence of some little episode of the kind; "old gil's uncommon cranky this mornin', and no two ways about it. it's always best to leave him to come round by himself when he is in this way, so lets you and me go down to rummer's and get some luncheon." but throughout all his annoyances, and the renovated passion for his wife,--passion of the strongest, wildest, most enslaving kind, was now always present in his heart,--gilbert lloyd held carefully to his business career, losing no opportunity of showing himself of service to his pupil, and taking every care that his pupil was made aware of the fact.
"i say, etchingham," said gilbert one morning, glancing up from his accounts at his lordship, who was moodily looking out of window, smoking, and wondering whether he should propose to miss lambert before the season finally broke up, or leave it until next spring,--"i say, etchingham i'm pretty near sick of town."
"same here!" replied his lordship; "fusty and beastly, ain't it? well, we're close upon cutting it; it's goodwood the week after next, and then there's brighton--"
"o, curse brighton!" broke in lloyd.
"all right," said lord ticehurst, lazily dropping into a chair. "curse brighton by all means. but what a rum fellow you are! you wouldn't go to the brighton meeting last year; and i recollect that there was a talk about it at rummer's; and jack manby--the bustard, you know--said you'd never go there again, since in gaslight's year, i think he said, the sea-air spoiled your complexion."
"manby's a chattering idiot," said lloyd savagely; "and next time you hear men talking of why i don't go to the brighton meeting, you may say i don't go because it isn't a meeting at all, a third-rate concern with a pack of platers to run, and a crowd of cockneys to look at them. you may say that."
"much obliged," said lord ticehurst; "you may say it yourself, if you want to. i don't hold with mixin' myself up in other fellows' shines;" and he sucked solemnly at his cigar, and did his best to look dignified.
"my dear old etchingham, don't be angry. i was vexed at hearing you repeat the gabble of those infernal fellows at that filthy tavern--it isn't anything better--because it's not only about me they talk. however, that's neither here nor there. i suppose you'll have the wind-up dinner at richmond as usual."
"all right, gil, my boy!" said his good-tempered lordship; "there's no bones broke, and it's all squared. of course we'll have the dinner. let's see," looking at his memorandum-book; "friday-week, how will that suit? mrs. stapleton burge's party. o, ah, that's nothing!" he added quickly, growing very red.
"very well," said gilbert quietly. "friday-week, since you've only got mrs. stapleton burge's party; and that's nothing, you say. friday-week will do. i'm to ask the usual lot, i suppose?"
"yes, usual lot, and one or two more, don't you think? it was deuced slow last time, i remember. only old toshington to talk, and everybody's tired of his old gab. ask someone to froth it up a bit, one of those writing-fellows one sees at some houses, or an actor who can mimic fellows, and that kind of thing, don't you know?"
"i know," said gilbert, by no means jumping at the suggestion; "but i generally find that your clever fellows who write are miserable unless they have all the talk to themselves; and the actors are insulted if you ask them to do any of their hanky-panky, as though, by jove, they'd be invited for anything else. however, i'll look up some of them, and do my best. anybody else?"
"no, i think not. unless, by the way, you were to ask that man that my aunt's taken up lately--challoner."
the name brought the blood into gilbert's face, and he paused a moment before he said: "i don't think i'd have that fellow, etchingham, if i were you."
"what's the matter with him? ain't he on the square? bad egg, and that kind of thing?"
"i know very little about him," said gilbert, fixing his eyes on lord ticehurst's face; "nothing, indeed, for the matter of that; and he's never crossed me, and never will have the opportunity." i said, "if i were you."
"yes, well--i know. drop the riddle business and speak out. what do you mean?"
"plainly, then, i've noticed--and i can't imagine how it has failed to escape you--that this man challoner is making strong running for a lady for whom i have heard you profess the greatest admiration--miss lambert."
"o, ah, yes--thanks; all right," said lord ticehurst, looking more foolish than usual--in itself a stupendous feat; "well, i ain't spooney particularly on challoner, so you needn't ask him."
peers of the realm, and persons known as "public characters," command more civility and attention in england than anyone else. with tradesmen, hotel-waiters, and railway-porters this feeling is so strongly, developed that they will leave any customer to serve a great lord or a popular comedian. lord ticehurst's name stood very high at the crown and sceptre at richmond, not merely because he was an earl--they see plenty of them during the season at the crown and sceptre--but because he was free-spoken, lavish with his money, and "had no cussed pride about him." consequently, whenever he dined there the dinner was always good, which is by no means always the case at the c. and s.; and the present occasion was no exception. there were about twenty guests, all men, and nearly all men of one set, who, though they were mostly wellborn and, in the main, tolerably educated, apparently never sought for and certainly never attained any other society. the outside world was familiar with their names, through seeing them printed in the newspapers as attending the various great race-meetings; and with their personal appearance, through seeing them at tattersall's and in the park, especially on sundays in the season. some had chambers in the albany, some in smaller and cheaper sets; many of them lived humbly enough in one bed-room in the lodging-house-swarming streets round st. james's; all of them haunted rummer's in conduit-street; and most of them belonged to some semi-turf, semi-military, whole card-and-billiard-playing club. some of them were believed to be married, but their wives were never seen with them by any chance; for they never went into society, to the opera or the theatres; and they were always put into the bachelor quarters at country-houses, and into the topmost rooms at the hotels, where they treated the female domestics in a pleasant and genial way, a compound of the manners of the groom and the commercial bagman.
they gathered in full force at the crown and sceptre that lovely july afternoon; for they knew that they would have a good dinner and wine without stint. captain dafter was there--a little wiry man with sandy scraps of whisker and a mean little white face, but who was the best amateur steeplechase rider in england, with limbs of steel and dauntless pluck. next to him sat a fat, heavy-healed, large-jowled man, with a face the shape and colour of an ill-baked quartern loaf; a silent stupid-looking man, who ate and drank enormously, and said, and apparently understood, nothing; but who was no less a personage than the "great northern," as he was called, from having been born at carlisle; the enormous bookmaker and king of the ring, who began life as a plumber with eighteenpence, and was then worth hundreds of thousands. there, too, with his neatly-rolled whiskers and his neatly-tied blue bird's-eye scarf, with its plain solid gold horseshoe pin, was dolly clarke, the turf-lawyer. years ago dolly would have thought himself lucky if he ever made six hundred a-year. six thousand is now nearer dolly's annual income, all brought, about by his own talent, and "not standing on any repairs," as he put it, a quality which is to be found in the dictionary under the word "unscrupulousness;" for when old mr. snoxell, inventor of the pilgrim's-progress leather for tender feet, died, and left all his money to his son sam, who had been bred to the law, sam took dolly clarke into partnership, and by combining shrewdness with bill-discounting and a military connection with a knowledge of turf-matters, they did a splendid business. you would almost mistake dolly clarke for a gentleman now, and samuel snoxell calls all the army by their christian names. next to dolly clarke was mr. bagwax, q.c., always retained in cases connected with the turf, and rather preferring to be on the shaky and shady side, which affords opportunities for making great fun out of would-be-honest witnesses, and making jokes which, of all the persons in court, are not least understood, by mr. justice martingale, who knows a horse from a wigblock, and is understood to have at one time heard the chimes at midnight. the redoubtable jack manby, called "the bustard," because in his thickness of utterance he was in the habit of declaring that he "didn't, care about bustard so long as he got beef," was there; and old sam roller the trainer, looking something like a bishop, and something more like mr. soapey sponge's friend, jack spraggon; and a tall thin gentlemanly man, who looked like a barrister, and who was "haruspex," the sporting prophet of the statesman.. nor had gilbert lloyd forgotten his patron's hint about the enlivening of the company by the representatives of literature and the drama. mr. wisbottle, the graphic writer, the charming essayist, the sparkling dramatist; wisbottle, who was always turning up in print when you least expected him; wisbottle, of whom his brilliant friend and toady m'boswell had remarked that he had never tetigited anything which he hadn't ornavited;--wisbottle represented literature, and represented it in a very thirsty and talkative, not to say flippant, manner. as the drama's representative, behold mr. maurice mendip, a charming young fellow of fifty-five, who, in the old days of patent theatres and great tragedians, would have alternated marcellus with bernardo, playing horatio for his benefit, when his landlady, friends, and family from bermondsey came in with tickets sold for his particular behoof, but who, in virtue of loud lungs and some faint reminiscence of what he had seen done by his betters, played all the "leading business" in london when he could get the chance, and was the idolised hero of californian gold-diggers and australian aborigines. he was, perhaps, a little out of place at such a party, being heavy grave, and taciturn; but most people knew his name, and when told who he was, said, "o, indeed!" and looked at him with that mixture of curiosity, and impertinence with which "public characters" are generally regarded. the other guests were men more or less intimately connected with the turf, who talked to each other in a low grumbling monotone, and whose whole desire was to get the better of each other in every possible way.
the dinner, which had called forth loud encomiums, was over; the cigars were lighted, and the conversation had been proceeding briskly, when in a momentary lull dolly clarke, who had the reputation for being not quite too fond of gilbert lloyd, said in a loud voice: "well, my lord, and after goodwood comes brighton, and of course you hope to be as lucky there."
"we've got nothing at brighton," replied lord ticehurst, looking uneasily towards where gilbert was occupying the vice-chair.
"nothing at brigthton!" echoed dolly clarke, very loud indeed; "why, how's that?"
"because we don't choose, mr. clarke," said gilbert, from the other end of the table--he had been drinking more than his wont, and there was a strained, flushed look round his eyes quite unusual to him--"because we don't choose; i suppose that's reason enough."
"o, quite," said dolly clarke, with a short laugh. "i spoke to lord ticehurst, by the way; but in your case i suppose it's not an 'untradesmanlike falsehood' if you represent yourself as 'the same concern.' however, you used to go to brighton, lloyd."
"yea," replied gilbert quickly, "and so used you, when you were wiggins and proctor's outdoor clerk at eighteen shillings a-week--by the excursion-train! times have changed with both of us."
"lloyd had him there, jack," whispered bagwax, q.c., to his neighbour the bustard. "impudent customer, master clarke! i recollect well when he used to carry a bag and serve writs, and all that; and now--"
"hold on a binnit," said the bustard; "he's an awkward customer is clarke, and he'll show gilbert no bercy." and, indeed, there was a look in mr. dolly clarke's ordinarily smiling, self-satisfied face, and a decision in the manner in which his hand had, apparently involuntarily, closed upon the neck of the claret-jug standing in front of him, that augured ill for the peace of the party in general, or the personal comfort of gilbert lloyd in particular. but old sam roller's great spectacles had happened to be turned towards the turf-lawyer at the moment; and the old fellow, seeing how matters stood, had telegraphed to lord ticehurst, while mr. wisbottle touched clarke's knee with one hand under the table, and removed the claret-jug from his grasp with the other, whispering, "drop it, dear old boy! what's the good? you kill him, and have to keep out of the way, and lose all the business in davies-street. he kills you, and what becomes of the policies for the little woman at roehampton? listen to the words of wisbottle the preacher, my chick, and drop it." and it having by this time dawned upon lord ticehurst that there was something wrong, that young nobleman cut into the conversation in a very energetic and happy manner, principally dilating upon the necessity of his guests drinking as much and as fast as they possibly could. the first part of the proposition seemed highly popular, but certain of the company objected to being hurried with their liquor, and demanded to know the reason of their being thus pressed. then lord ticehurst explained that he was under the necessity of putting in an appearance that night at the house of a very particular friend, where an evening party was being held; that it was an engagement of long-standing, and one which it was impossible for him to get off. this, he added, need be no reason for breaking up their meeting; he should only be too delighted if they would stop as long as they pleased; and he was quite sure that his worthy vice would come up to that end of the table, and fill his place much more worthily than it had hitherto been filled.
but to this proposition there was a great deal of demur. several of the guests, keen men of business, with the remembrance of the morrow's engagements and work before them, and having had quite sufficient wine, were eager to be off. others, who would have remained drinking so long as any drink was brought, scarcely relished their cups under the presidency of gilbert lloyd, who was regarded by them as anything but a convivialist; while others, again, had engagements in town which they were anxious to fulfil. moreover, the plan proposed by his patron was anything but acceptable to gilbert lloyd himself. ordinarily almost abstemious, he had on this occasion taken a great deal of wine, and, though he was by no means intoxicated, his pulses throbbed and his blood was heated in a manner very unusual with him. from the first moment of ticehurst's mentioning that he was going on this evening to a party at mrs. stapleton burge's house, gilbert felt convinced, by his friend's manner, that he must have some special attraction there, and that that attraction must be the presence of gertrude. this thought--the feeling that she would be there, surrounded by courtiers and flatterers--worried and irritated him, and every glass of wine which he swallowed increased his desire to see her that night. what matter if he had been rebuffed! that was simply because he had not had the chance of speaking to her. give him that opportunity, and she would tell a very different tale. he should have that opportunity if he met her face to face in society; it would be impossible for her, without committing a palpable rudeness--and gilbert lloyd knew well that she would never do that--to avoid speaking to him. chateau qui parle est pret de se render.. a true proverb that; and he made up his mind to tell lord ticehurst to take him to mrs. stapleton burge's gathering, and to run his chance with gertrude.
so that when he heard his patron propound that he should remain behind, to fan into a flame the expiring embers of an orgie which, even at its brightest, had afforded him no amusement, his disgust was extreme, and uncomplimentary as they were to himself, he fostered and repeated the excuses which he heard on all sides. nor did he content himself with passive resistance, but went straight to lord ticehurst, and taking him aside, told him that this was, after all, only a "duty dinner;" that all that was necessary had been done, and it was better they should break up then and there. "moreover," said he, "i've a fancy to go with you to-night. you're always telling me i don't mix enough in what you call society; and as this is the end of the season, and we're not likely to be--well, i was going to say bothered with women's parties for a long time, i don't mind going with you; in fact, i should rather like it. these fellows have done very well, and we can now leave them to shift for themselves." lord ticehurst's astonishment at this suggestion from his mentor was extreme. "what a queer chap you are, gil!" he said; "when i've asked you to go to all sorts of houses, first-class, where everything is done in great form and quite correct, you've stood out and fought shy, and all that kind of thing. and now you want to go to old mother burge's,--old cat who stuffs her rooms with a lot of people raked up from here and there! 'pon my soul there's no knowing where to have you, and that's about the size of it!" but in this matter, as in almost every other, the young man gave way to his friend, and the party broke up at once; and lord ticehurst and gilbert lloyd drove home to hill-street, dressed themselves, and proceeded to mrs. stapleton barge's reception.
mrs. stapleton burge lived in a very big house in great swaffham-street, close out of park-lane, and though a very little black-faced woman herself, did everything on a very large scale. her footmen were enormous creatures, prize-fed, big-whiskered, ambrosial; her chariot was like a family ark; the old english characters in which her name and address were inscribed surged all over her big cards. she had a big husband, a fat fair man with a protuberant chest, and receding forehead, and little eyes, who was a major in some essex yeomanry, and who was generally mistaken by his guests for the butler. everybody went to mrs. stapleton burge's; and she, sometimes accompanied by the major, but more frequently without him, went everywhere. nobody could give a reason for either proceeding. when the stapleton barges went out of town at the end of the season, nobody knew where they went to. some people said to the family place in essex, but tommy toshington said that was all humbug; he'd looked up the county history, and, there wasn't any such place as fenners; and he, tommy, thought they either retired to the back of the house in great swaffham-street, or took lodgings at ramsgate. but the next season they appeared again, as blooming and as big as ever. lord ticehurst, in his description of mrs. barge's parties, scarcely did that worthy woman justice. people said, and truly, that those gatherings were "a little mixed;" but lady tintagel took care that some of the very best people in london were seen at them. if mrs. burge would have her own friends, that, lady tintagel said, was no affair of hers. mrs. burge swore by lady tintagel, and the major swore at her. "if it wasn't for that confounded woman," he used to say, "we shouldn't be going through all this tomfoolery, but should be living quietly at--" he was never known to complete the sentence. lady tintagel was mrs. barge's sponsor in the world of fashion, and the major lent money to lord tintagel, who was an impecunious and elderly nobleman. when lady tintagel presided over a stall at an aristocratic fancy-fair for the benefit of a charity, mrs. burge furnished the said stall, and took lady tintagel's place thereat during the dull portion of the day. lady tintagel's celebrated tableaux vivantswere held in mrs. burge's big rooms in great swaffham-street, the tintagel establishment being carried on in a two-roomed house in mayfair. mrs. burge "takes" lady tintagel to various places of an evening, when the tintagel jobbed horses are knocked up, and never has "her ladyship" out of her mouth.
when lord ticehurst and gilbert lloyd arrived at the hospitable mansion, they found the rooms crowded. it was a great but trying occasion for mrs. burge--trying, because it was plainly the farewell fêteof the season; and all the guests were talking to one another of where they were going to, while she, poor woman, had a dreary waste of seven months before her, to be passed away from the delights of fashionable life. to how many people did she promise a speedy meeting at spa, at baden, in the highlands, in midland country-houses? and all her interlocutors placed their tongues in their cheeks, and knew that until the next summons of parliament drew the town together, and simultaneously produced a card of invitation from mrs. burge, they should not meet their hostess of the night. meantime, the success of the present gathering was unimpeachable. everybody who was left in london had rallied round great swaffham-street; and there was no doubt but that the morning postof the coming day would convey to the ends of the civilised world a list of fashionables which would redound in the most complete manner to the éclatof mrs. stapleton burge.
the necessary form of introduction had been gone through--scarcely necessary, by the way, in great swaffham-street; for the men always averred that mrs. burge never knew half the people at her own parties--and lord ticehurst, having done his duty in landing gilbert, had strolled away among the other convives, with what object gilbert well enough knew. he, gilbert lloyd, had rather a habit of trusting to chance in matters of this kind; and, on the present occasion, he found that chance befriended him. for while his patron, eager and anxious-eyed, went roaming round the room in hot search for the object of his thoughts, gilbert, no less anxious, no less determined, remained quietly near the entrance-door, and narrowly watched each passing face. he knew most of them. a london man of-half-a-dozen seasons can scarcely find a fresh face in any evening party on which he may chance to stumble. we go on in our different sets, speaking to every other person we meet, and familiar with the appearance of all the rest--what freshness and variety! some of the passers-by raised their eyebrows in surprise at seeing lloyd in such a place; others nodded and smiled, and would have stopped to speak but for the plain noli-me-tangereexpression which he wore. he returned the nods and grins in a half-preoccupied, half-sullen manner, and it was not until he heard miles challoner's voice close by him that he seemed thoroughly roused. then he drew back from the door-post, against which he had been leaning, and ensconcing himself behind the broad back of a stout old gentleman, his neighbour, saw gertrude enter the room, on miles challoner's arm. they had been dancing; she was flushed and animated, and looked splendidly handsome, as evidently thought her companion. her face was upturned to his, and in her eyes was a frank, honest look of love and trust, such a look as gilbert lloyd recollected to have seen there when he first knew her years ago, but which had soon died out, and had never reappeared until that moment. and it was for miles challoner that her spirits had returned, her love and beauty had been renewed; for miles challoner, whom he hated with a deadly hate, who had been his rock ahead throughout his life, and who was now robbing him of what indeed he had once thrown aside as valueless, but what he would now give worlds to repossess. gilbert lloyd's face, all the features of which were so well trained and kept in such constant subjection, for once betrayed him, and the evil passion gnawing at his heart showed itself in his fiery eyes, surrounded by a strained hot flush, and in his rigidly set mouth. tommy toshington, tacking about the room to avoid the pressure of the crowd, and coming suddenly round lloyd's stout neighbour, was horrified by the expression in gilbert's face.
"why, what's the matter, lloyd, my boy?" asked the old gentleman; "you look quite ghastly, by jove! ellis's claret not disagreed with you, has it?"
"not a bit of it, tommy; i'm all right," said gilbert with an effort; "room's a little hot--perhaps that's made me look a little white."
"look a little white! dammy, you looked a little black when i first caught sight of you. you were scowling away at somebody; i couldn't make out who."
"not i," said gilbert, with an attempt at a laugh; "i was only thinking of something."
"o, shouldn't do that," said mr. toshington; "devilish stupid thing thinking; never comes to any good, and makes a fellow look deuced old lots of people here to-night;" then looking round and sinking his voice, "and rather a mixture, eh? i can't think where some of the people come from; one never sees them anywhere else." and the old gentleman, whose father had been a dissenting hatter at islington, propped his double gold-eyeglass on his nose, and surveyed the company with a look of excessive hauteur..
"see!" he said presently, nudging gilbert with his elbow; "you reck'lect what i told you, down at the crystal palace that day, about etchingham and miss what-do-you-call-'em, the singer?--that it wasn't any go for my lord, because there was another fellow cutting in in that quarter--you reck'lect? well, look here, here they are,--what's-his-name, chaldecott or something, and the girl."
"i see them," said lloyd, drawing back.
"all right," said toshington; "you needn't hide yourself; don't you be afraid, they're much too much taken up with each other to be looking at us. gad, she's a devilish pretty girl, that, ain't she, lloyd? there's a sort of a something about her which--such a deuced good style too, and way of carryin' herself! gad, as to most of the women now--set of dumpy little brutes!--might be kitchen-maids, begad!"
"just look, toshington, will you? i can't see, for this old fool's shoulder's in the way. has challoner left miss lambert?"
"yes, he's stepped aside to speak to lady carabas; miss lambert is standing by the mantelpiece, and--"
"all right, back in half a-second!" and made straight for the place where gertrude was standing.
"now, that's a funny thing!" said old toshington to himself, as he looked after him. "what does that mean? is lloyd making the running for his master, or is that a little commission on his own account? no go either way, i should say; the man in the beard means winning there, and no one else has a chance."
as gilbert lloyd crossed the room, gertrude looked up, and their eyes met. the next instant she looked round for miles challoner, but he was still busily engaged in talking to lady carabas. then she saw some other ladies of her acquaintance, seated within a little distance, and she determined on crossing the room to them. but she had scarcely moved a few steps when gilbert lloyd was by her side. gertrude's heart beat rapidly; she scarcely heard the first words of salutation which gilbert uttered; she looked quickly round and saw that though miles was still standing by lady carabas's chair, his eyes were fixed on her and lloyd. what could she do? what is that her husband says?
"too much of this fooling! you musthear me now!"
with an attempt at a smile, gertrude turned to her persecutor and said, "once for all, leave me!"
"i will not," said he, in a low voice, but also with a smile on his face. "you cannot get away from me without exciting the suspicion, or the wonder at least, of the room. how long do you imagine i am going to let this pretty little play proceed? how long am i to look on and see the puppets dallying?"
gertrude flushed scarlet as he said these words, but she did not speak.
"you're carrying this business with too high a hand," said he, emboldened by her silence. "you seem to forget that i have a word or two to say in the matter."
"see, gilbert lloyd," said gertrude, still smiling and playing with her fan, "you sought me; not i you. go now, and--"
"go!" said gilbert, who saw miles challoner looking hard at them,--"go, that he may come! go! you give your orders freely! what hold have you on me that i am to obey them?"
"would you wish me to tell you?"
"tell away!" said lloyd defiantly. "i don't mind."
"here, then," said gertrude, beckoning him a little closer with her fan, then whispering behind it. but one short sentence, a very few words, but, hearing them, gilbert lloyd turned death-white, and felt the room reel round before him. in an instant he recovered sufficiently to make a bow, and to leave the room and the house. when he got out into the street, the fresh air revived him; he leaned for a moment against some railings to collect his thoughts; and as he moved off, he said aloud, "he did suspect it, then; and he told her!"
