He had borne it like a man,--never having groaned openly, or quivered once before any comrade at the name of the Lady Glencora. She had married Mr. Palliser at St. George's Square, and on the morning of the marriage he had hung about his club door in Pall Mall, listening to the bells, and saying a word or two about the wedding, with admirable courage. It had been for him a great chance,--and he had lost it. Who can say, too, that his only regret was for the money? He had spoken once of it to a married sister of his, in whose house he had first met Lady Glencora. "I shall never marry now,--that is all," he said--and then he went about, living his old reckless life, with the same recklessness as ever. He was one of those young men with dark hair and blue eyes,--who wear no beard, and are certainly among the handsomest of all God's creatures. No more handsome man than Burgo Fitzgerald lived in his days; and this merit at any rate was his,--that he thought nothing of his own beauty. But he lived ever without conscience, without purpose,--with no idea that it behoved him as a man to do anything but eat and drink,--or ride well to hounds till some poor brute, much nobler than himself, perished beneath him.

Burgo had borne it like a man. Lady Glencora had married Mr. Palliser at St. George's Square, and on the morning of the marriage Burgo had hung about his club door in Pall Mall, listening to the bells, and speaking about the wedding with admirable courage. He spoke once of it to a married sister, in whose house he had first met Lady Glencora.
"I shall never marry now," he said - and then he went on living his old life, as recklessly as ever. No more handsome man than Burgo Fitzgerald lived; and he had the merit of thinking nothing of his own beauty. But he lived without conscience and without purpose - feeling no need to do anything but eat and drink - or ride to hounds till some poor brute, much nobler than himself, perished beneath him.
