Of course cheating isn't very nice: and it isn't very nice for a fellow to play when he knows he can't pay; but I don't know that it's worse than getting drunk like Dolly Longestaffe, or quarrelling with everybody as Grasslough does,--or trying to marry some poor devil of a girl merely because she's got money.


I believe in living in glass houses, but I don't believe in throwing stones.


Well;--yes;--no;--that is, I suppose, I used to do."


"I often think I shouldn't have been the first to pick up a stone and pitch it at that woman.


"But you agree that we ought to do something about these shares?"


said Sir Felix, thinking that this doctrine of forgiveness might be carried too far.


I'll let old Grendall live with all my heart; but then he ought to let me live too.


"It's no good our going to old Grendall," said Lord Nidderdale, who had some understanding in the matter, "nor yet to young Grendall.

It's no good our going to old Grendall," said Lord Nidderdale.


The one would only grunt and say nothing, and the other would tell every lie that came into his head.


The cat in this matter I take to be our great master, Augustus Melmotte."

"We should go to our master, Augustus Melmotte."


This little meeting occurred on the day after Felix Carbury's return from Suffolk, and at a time at which, as we know, it was the great duty of his life to get the consent of old Melmotte to his marriage with Marie Melmotte.

This meeting occurred on the day after Felix Carbury's return from Suffolk, when it was the great duty of his life to get Melmotte's consent to his marriage with Marie.


In doing that he would have to put one bell on the cat, and he thought that for the present that was sufficient.


In his heart of hearts he was afraid of Melmotte.


But then, as he knew very well, Nidderdale was intent on the same object.


Nidderdale, he thought, was a very queer fellow.


That talking about the Bible, and the forgiving of trespasses, was very queer; and that allusion to the marrying of heiresses very queer indeed.


He knew that Nidderdale wanted to marry the heiress, and Nidderdale must also know that he wanted to marry her.


And yet Nidderdale was indelicate enough to talk about it!


And now the man asked who should bell the cat!


"You go there oftener than I do, and perhaps you could do it best," said Sir Felix.
"Go where?"
"To the Board."

"You go to the Board oftener than I do, and perhaps you could do it best," said Sir Felix.


He'd be civil to me, perhaps, because I'm a lord: but then, for the same reason, he'd think I was the bigger fool of the two."

He'd be civil to me, perhaps, because I'm a lord: but for the same reason, he'd think I was a bigger fool."


"I don't see that at all," said Sir Felix.


"I ain't afraid of him, if you mean that," continued Lord Nidderdale.

"I ain't afraid of him," continued Lord Nidderdale.


"He's a wretched old reprobate, and I don't doubt but he'd skin you and me if he could make money off our carcasses. But as he can't skin me, I'll have a shy at him.

"He's a wretched old reprobate, but I'll have a go at him.


On the whole I think he rather likes me, because I've always been on the square with him.

On the whole I think he rather likes me, because I've always been square with him.


If it depended on him, you know, I should have the girl to-morrow."

If it depended on him, you know, I should have the girl tomorrow."


Sir Felix did not at all mean to doubt his friend's assertion, but felt it hard to answer so very strange a statement.


"But then she don't want me, and I ain't quite sure that I want her.

"But she don't want me, and I ain't quite sure that I want her.


Where the devil would a fellow find himself if the money wasn't all there?"

Where the devil would a fellow find himself if the money wasn't there?"


Lord Nidderdale then sauntered away, leaving the baronet in a deep study of thought as to such a condition of things as that which his lordship had suggested.

Lord Nidderdale then sauntered away, leaving the baronet deep in thought.


Where the--mischief would he, Sir Felix Carbury, be, if he were to marry the girl, and then to find that the money was not all there?

Where would he, Sir Felix Carbury, be, if he were to marry the girl, and then find that the money was not there?


On the following Friday, which was the Board day, Nidderdale went to the great man's offices in Abchurch Lane, and so contrived that he walked with the great man to the Board meeting.

On the following Friday, which was the Board day, Nidderdale went to the great man's offices in Abchurch Lane, and contrived to walk with the great man to the meeting.


Melmotte was always very gracious in his manner to Lord Nidderdale, but had never, up to this moment, had any speech with his proposed son-in-law about business.

Melmotte was always very gracious to Lord Nidderdale, but had never spoken to him about business.


"I wanted just to ask you something," said the lord, hanging on the chairman's arm.

"I just wanted to ask you something," said Nidderdale.


"Don't you think that Carbury and I ought to have some shares to sell?"


"But why shouldn't we as well as the others?"


"Have you and Sir Felix put any money into it?"


"Well, if you come to that, I don't suppose we have.


"_I_ have taken shares for Lord Alfred," said Melmotte, putting very heavy emphasis on the personal pronoun.

"I have taken shares for Lord Alfred," said Melmotte, with heavy emphasis.


"If it suits me to advance money to Lord Alfred Grendall, I suppose I may do so without asking your lordship's consent, or that of Sir Felix Carbury."

"If it suits me to advance money to Lord Alfred Grendall, I suppose I may do so without your consent, or Sir Felix Carbury's."


I don't want to make inquiry as to what you do with your money."

I don't want to ask what you do with your money."


"I'm sure you don't, and, therefore, we won't say anything more about it.


You wait awhile, Lord Nidderdale, and you'll find it will come all right.

Wait awhile, Lord Nidderdale, and you'll find it will come all right.


If you've got a few thousand pounds loose, and will put them into the concern, why, of course you can sell; and, if the shares are up, can sell at a profit.

If you've got a few thousand pounds loose, and put them into the concern, why, of course you can sell; and, if the shares are up, you can sell at a profit.


It's presumed just at present that, at some early day, you'll qualify for your directorship by doing so, and till that is done, the shares are allocated to you, but cannot be transferred to you."

It's presumed that, at some early day, you'll qualify for your directorship by doing so, and till that is done, the shares are allocated to you, but cannot be transferred to you."


"That's it, is it," said Lord Nidderdale, pretending to understand all about it.

"That's it, is it," said Lord Nidderdale, pretending to understand.


"If things go on as we hope they will between you and Marie, you can have pretty nearly any number of shares that you please;--that is, if your father consents to a proper settlement."

"If things go on as we hope between you and Marie, you can have pretty nearly any number of shares that you please; that is, if your father consents to a proper settlement."


"I hope it'll all go smooth, I'm sure," said Nidderdale.


"Thank you; I'm ever so much obliged to you, and I'll explain it all to Carbury."


When the news of her husband's death was in some very rough way conveyed to Madame Melmotte, it crushed her for the time altogether.

When the news of her husband's death was conveyed to Madame Melmotte, it crushed her altogether.

Chapter 86: The Meeting in Bruton Street


Marie first heard that she no longer had a living parent as she stood by the poor woman's bedside, and she was enabled, as much perhaps by the necessity incumbent upon her of attending to the wretched woman as by her own superior strength of character, to save herself from that prostration and collapse of power which a great and sudden blow is apt to produce.

Marie's superior strength of character, and the need to attend to Madame Melmotte, saved her from prostration.


She stared at the woman who first conveyed to her tidings of the tragedy, and then for a moment seated herself at the bedside.


But the violent sobbings and hysterical screams of Madame Melmotte soon brought her again to her feet, and from that moment she was not only active but efficacious.

Amidst the hysterical sobbings and screams of Madame Melmotte, she was active and effective.


No;--she would not go down to the room; she could do no good by going thither. But they must send for a doctor. They should send for a doctor immediately. She was then told that a doctor and an inspector of police were already in the rooms below.

She said the servants must send for a doctor, and was told that a doctor and an inspector of police were already in the rooms below.


The necessity of throwing whatever responsibility there might be on to other shoulders had been at once apparent to the servants, and they had sent out right and left, so that the house might be filled with persons fit to give directions in such an emergency.


The officers from the police station were already there when the woman who now filled Didon's place in the house communicated to Madame Melmotte the fact that she was a widow.


It was afterwards said by some of those who had seen her at the time, that Marie Melmotte had shown a hard heart on the occasion.

It was afterwards said by some that Marie Melmotte had shown a hard heart.


Her feeling for her father was certainly not that which we are accustomed to see among our daughters and sisters. He had never been to her the petted divinity of the household, whose slightest wish had been law, whose little comforts had become matters of serious care, whose frowns were horrid clouds, whose smiles were glorious sunshine, whose kisses were daily looked for, and if missed would be missed with mourning.

Her feeling for her father had certainly not been affectionate.


In all the intercourses of her family, since the first rough usage which she remembered, there had never been anything sweet or gracious.


Though she had recognised a certain duty, as due from herself to her father, she had found herself bound to measure it, so that more should not be exacted from her than duty required.

She had recognised her duty to her father, and had not gone beyond it.


She had long known that her father would fain make her a slave for his own purposes, and that if she put no limits to her own obedience he certainly would put none.

She had long known that her father would make her a slave for his own purposes if he could.


She had drawn no comparison between him and other fathers, or between herself and other daughters, because she had never become conversant with the ways of other families.

She had never compared him to other fathers, because she had never known any other families well.


After a fashion she had loved him, because nature creates love in a daughter's heart; but she had never respected him, and had spent the best energies of her character on a resolve that she would never fear him.

After a fashion she had loved him; but she had never respected him, and had spent much of her energy on a resolve never to fear him.


"He may cut me into pieces, but he shall not make me do for his advantage that which I do not think he has a right to exact from me."


That had been the state of her mind towards her father; and now that he had taken himself away with terrible suddenness, leaving her to face the difficulties of the world with no protector and no assistance, the feeling which dominated her was no doubt one of awe rather than of broken-hearted sorrow.

Now that her father had taken himself away with terrible suddenness, leaving her no protector, she felt awe rather than sorrow.


Those who depart must have earned such sorrow before it can be really felt.


They who are left may be overwhelmed by the death--even of their most cruel tormentors.


Madame Melmotte was altogether overwhelmed; but it could not probably be said of her with truth that she was crushed by pure grief. There was fear of all things, fear of solitude, fear of sudden change, fear of terrible revelations, fear of some necessary movement she knew not whither, fear that she might be discovered to be a poor wretched impostor who never could have been justified in standing in the same presence with emperors and princes, with duchesses and cabinet ministers.

Madame Melmotte was altogether overwhelmed; probably not by grief, but by fear of solitude, fear of sudden change, fear of terrible revelations.


This and the fact that the dead body of the man who had so lately been her tyrant was lying near her, so that she might hardly dare to leave her room lest she should encounter him dead, and thus more dreadful even than when alive, utterly conquered her.


Feelings of the same kind, the same fears, and the same awe were powerful also with Marie;--but they did not conquer her.

The same fears were powerful also with Marie; but they did not conquer her.


She was strong and conquered them; and she did not care to affect a weakness to which she was in truth superior.


In such a household the death of such a father after such a fashion will hardly produce that tender sorrow which comes from real love.


Her father had destroyed himself, and had doubtless done so because his troubles in regard to money had been greater than he could bear.

Her father had destroyed himself, doubtless because his financial troubles had been greater than he could bear.


When he had told her that she was to sign those deeds because ruin was impending, he must indeed have told her the truth.

When he had told her to sign the deeds because ruin was impending, he must indeed have told her the truth.


He had so often lied to her that she had had no means of knowing whether he was lying then or telling her a true story.

He had so often lied to her that she had had no means of knowing whether he was lying then or not.


But she had offered to sign the deeds since that, and he had told her that it would be of no avail,--and at that time had not been angry with her as he would have been had her refusal been the cause of his ruin.

But she had offered to sign the deeds since, and he had told her that it would be of no use - and he had not been angry.


She took some comfort in thinking of that.


What was to be done generally by that over-cumbered household?


She and her pseudo-mother had been instructed to pack up their jewellery, and they had both obeyed the order.

She and her pseudo-mother had packed up their jewellery, as instructed.


But she herself at this moment cared but little for any property.


On whose arm could she lean for some support at this terrible time?


As for love, and engagements, and marriage,--that was all over.

As for love, and engagements - that was all over.


In her difficulty she never for a moment thought of Sir Felix Carbury.

She never for a moment thought of Sir Felix Carbury.


Though she had been silly enough to love the man because he was pleasant to look at, she had never been so far gone in silliness as to suppose that he was a staff upon which any one might lean.


Had that marriage taken place, she would have been the staff.


But it might be possible that Lord Nidderdale would help her.


He was good-natured and manly, and would be efficacious,--if only he would come to her. He was near, and she thought that at any rate she would try. So she had written her note and sent it by the butler,--thinking as she did so of the words she would use to make the young man understand that all the nonsense they had talked as to marrying each other was, of course, to mean nothing now.

He was good-natured and manly; so she had written her note and sent it by the butler, thinking of how she would tell the young man that all that nonsense about marrying each other was, of course, to mean nothing now.


It was past eleven when he reached the house, and he was shown up-stairs into one of the sitting-rooms on the first-floor.

When he reached the house, he was shown upstairs into one of the sitting-rooms.


As he passed the door of the study, which was at the moment partly open, he saw the dress of a policeman within, and knew that the body of the dead man was still lying there.

As he passed the study door, which was partly open, he saw a policeman within, and knew that the dead man's body was still lying there.


But he went by rapidly without a glance within, remembering the look of the man as he had last seen his burly figure, and that grasp of his hand, and those odious words.

He went by rapidly, remembering the look of the man as he had last seen him, and that grasp of his hand, and those odious words.


And now the man was dead,--having destroyed his own life.


Surely the man must have known when he uttered those words what it was that he intended to do!

Surely the man must have known when he uttered those words what he intended to do!


When he had made that last appeal about Marie, conscious as he was that everyone was deserting him, he must even then have looked his fate in the face and have told himself that it was better that he should die!


His misfortunes, whatever might be their nature, must have been heavy on him then with all their weight; and he himself and all the world had known that he was ruined.


And yet he had pretended to be anxious about the girl's marriage, and had spoken of it as though he still believed that it would be accomplished!

And yet he had pretended to be anxious about the girl's marriage!


Nidderdale had hardly put his hat down on the table before Marie was with him.

Nidderdale had hardly put his hat down before Marie was with him.


He walked up to her, took her by both hands, and looked into her face.

He took her by both hands, and looked into her face.


There was no trace of a tear, but her whole countenance seemed to him to be altered.


"I thought you would come when I sent for you."


"I knew you would be a friend, and I knew no one else who would.


You won't be afraid, Lord Nidderdale, that I shall ever think any more of all those things which he was planning?"

You won't be afraid, Lord Nidderdale, that I shall ever think any more of that engagement?"


She paused a moment, but he was not ready enough to have a word to say in answer to this.

She paused a moment, but he had no answer ready.


When I think of all that he must have suffered I wish that I could be dead too."


No one tried to conceal anything for a moment.


It was better that it should be so;--better at last.


But we have no friends who would be considerate enough to try to save us from sorrow.


Mamma is very bad. She is always nervous and timid. Of course this has nearly killed her.

But Mamma is always nervous and timid, and this has nearly killed her.


It is Mr. Longestaffe's house, and we were to have left it to-morrow."

This is Mr. Longestaffe's house, and we were to have left it tomorrow."


We can't go back to that big place in Grosvenor Square.


Who will see the doctor and the policemen?"


"But there will be things that I cannot ask you to do.


"No," she said, "no. You cannot really regard me as a friend.


I had no business to know a person like you at all.


Oh, if the next six months could be over!


And then for the first time she burst into tears.

And for the first time she burst into tears.


"I wish I knew what might comfort you," he said.


As for comfort, when were we ever comfortable?


It has been one trouble after another,--one fear after another!

It has been one trouble after another, one fear after another!


I suppose they will take everything that we have."


"I think he had ever so many,--but I do not know who they were.

"I think he had many, but I do not know who they were.


His own clerk, who had lived with him for over twenty years, left him yesterday.

His clerk, who had been with him for twenty years, left him yesterday.


I suppose they will know something in Abchurch Lane; but now that Herr Croll has gone I am not acquainted even with the name of one of them.

I suppose they will know something in Abchurch Lane; but now that Herr Croll has gone I do not know the name of any of them.


Mr. Miles Grendall used to be with him."


"I do not think that he could be of much service."


Lord Alfred was always with him till very lately."


They only came because papa had a big house."


The young lord could not but feel that he was included in the same rebuke.


As she said this it seemed that for the moment her strength failed her, for she fell backwards on the corner of the sofa. He tried to raise her, but she shook him away, burying her face in her hands.

As she said this it seemed that her strength failed her, for she fell back on the sofa and buried her face in her hands.


He was standing close to her, still holding her arm, when he heard a knock at the front door, which was immediately opened, as the servants were hanging about in the hall.

There was a knock at the front door, which was opened by the servants in the hall.


said Marie, whose sharp ears caught the sound of various steps.


Lord Nidderdale went out on to the head of the stairs, and immediately heard the voice of Dolly Longestaffe.

Lord Nidderdale went out to the top of the stairs, and heard the voice of Dolly Longestaffe.


Dolly Longestaffe had on that morning put himself early into the care of Mr. Squercum, and it had happened that he with his lawyer had met his father with Mr. Bideawhile at the corner of the square.

Dolly and his lawyer Mr. Squercum had that morning met his father with Mr. Bideawhile at the corner of the square.


They were all coming according to appointment to receive the money which Mr. Melmotte had promised to pay them at this very hour. Of course they had none of them as yet heard of the way in which the Financier had made his last grand payment, and as they walked together to the door had been intent only in reference to their own money.

They were all coming to receive the money which Mr. Melmotte had promised to pay them, having heard nothing of Mr. Melmotte's final payment.


Squercum, who had heard a good deal on the previous day, was very certain that the money would not be forthcoming, whereas Bideawhile was sanguine of success.

Squercum was very certain that the money would not be forthcoming, whereas Bideawhile was confident of success.


Dolly had said, and by saying so had very much offended his father, who had resented the want of reverence implied in the use of that word "we."


They had all been admitted together, and Dolly had at once loudly claimed an old acquaintance with some of the articles around him.


"I knew I'd got a coat just like that," said Dolly, "and I never could make out what my fellow had done with it."


This was the speech which Nidderdale had heard, standing on the top of the stairs.


The two lawyers had at once seen, from the face of the man who had opened the door and from the presence of three or four servants in the hall, that things were not going on in their usual course.

The two lawyers at once saw, from the face of the man who had opened the door, that things were not going on in their usual course.


Before Dolly had completed his buffoonery the butler had whispered to Mr. Bideawhile that Mr. Melmotte--"was no more."

The butler whispered to Mr. Bideawhile that Mr. Melmotte "was no more."


Squercum put his hands into his trowsers pockets and opened his mouth wide.


Then Squercum whispered a word into the butler's ear, and the butler thereupon nodded his head.


"It's about what I expected," said Squercum. Then the butler whispered the word to Mr. Longestaffe, and whispered it also to Mr. Bideawhile, and they all knew that the millionaire had swallowed poison during the night.

Then the butler whispered that Melmotte had swallowed poison during the night.
"It's about what I expected," said Squercum.


It was known to the servants that Mr. Longestaffe was the owner of the house, and he was therefore, as having authority there, shown into the room where the body of Melmotte was lying on a sofa.

As the owner of the house, Mr. Longestaffe was shown into the room where Melmotte's body lay on a sofa.


The two lawyers and Dolly of course followed, as did also Lord Nidderdale, who had now joined them from the lobby above.

The two lawyers and Dolly followed, as did Lord Nidderdale, and two or three servants.


There was a policeman in the room who seemed to be simply watching the body, and who rose from his seat when the gentlemen entered.

A policeman who was watching the body rose from his seat when the gentlemen entered.


Two or three of the servants followed them, so that there was almost a crowd round the dead man's bier.


That Melmotte had been in the House on the previous night, and had there disgraced himself by intoxication, they had known already.


That he had been found dead that morning had been already announced.


They could only stand round and gaze on the square, sullen, livid features of the big-framed man, and each lament that he had ever heard the name of Melmotte.

They stood round and gazed on the sullen, livid features of the big man, and each lamented that he had ever heard the name of Melmotte.


said Dolly to Lord Nidderdale in a whisper.


She wanted somebody to tell her something.


I only came down when I heard your voices.


I fear it will be rather bad for you;--won't it?"

I fear it will be rather bad for you; won't it?


He talked to me about his affairs once, but he was such a liar that not a word that he said was worth anything.

He talked to me about his affairs once, but he was such a liar that not a word he said was worth anything."


"That other thing is all over of course," suggested Dolly.


Nidderdale intimated by a gesture of his head that the other thing was all over, and then returned to Marie.

Nidderdale nodded, and returned to Marie.


There was nothing further that the four gentlemen could do, and they soon departed from the house;--not, however, till Mr. Bideawhile had given certain short injunctions to the butler concerning the property contained in Mr. Longestaffe's town residence.

There was nothing that the four gentlemen could do, and they soon departed - once Mr. Bideawhile had given orders to the butler concerning the property in the house.


"They had come to see him," said Lord Nidderdale in a whisper. "There was some appointment.

"They had come by appointment to see him," said Lord Nidderdale to Marie.


He had told them to be all here at this hour."


Marie shuddered, and again hid her face.


"I think the best thing I can do," said Nidderdale, "is to go to Abchurch Lane, and find out from Smith who is the lawyer whom he chiefly trusted.

I think the best thing I can do," said Nidderdale, "is to go to Abchurch Lane, and find out who is the lawyer whom he chiefly trusted.


I know Smith had to do with his own affairs, because he has told me so at the Board; and if necessary I will find out Croll.


Then we had better employ the lawyer to arrange everything for you."


"Where would Madame Melmotte wish to go?"


"Anywhere, so that we could hide ourselves.


But shouldn't we stay till something has been done here?


And couldn't we have lodgings, so as to get away from Mr. Longestaffe's house?"

And couldn't we have lodgings, so as to get away from the house?"


Nidderdale promised that he himself would look for lodgings, as soon as he had seen the lawyer.


"And now, my lord, I suppose that I never shall see you again," said Marie.


All this will be trouble enough to you when people begin to say what we are.


But I don't think it has been my fault."


I shall always think of you as one of the kindest people I ever knew.


I thought it best to send to you for different reasons, but I do not want you to come back."

I thought it best to send to you, but I do not want you to come back."


After that he did go into the City, and succeeded in finding both Mr. Smith and Herr Croll.

After that he did go into the City, and succeeded in finding both Melmotte's lawyer and Herr Croll.


When he reached Abchurch Lane, the news of Melmotte's death had already been spread abroad; and more was known, or said to be known, of his circumstances than Nidderdale had as yet heard. The crushing blow to him, so said Herr Croll, had been the desertion of Cohenlupe,--that and the sudden fall in the value of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway shares, consequent on the rumours spread about the City respecting the Pickering property.

The news of Melmotte's death had already spread; the crushing blow to him, so said Herr Croll, had been the desertion of Cohenlupe - that and the sudden fall in value of the Mexican Railway shares, after the rumours spread about the Pickering property.


It was asserted in Abchurch Lane that had he not at that moment touched the Pickering property, or entertained the Emperor, or stood for Westminster, he must, by the end of the autumn, have been able to do any or all of those things without danger, simply as the result of the money which would then have been realised by the railway. But he had allowed himself to become hampered by the want of comparatively small sums of ready money, and in seeking relief had rushed from one danger to another, till at last the waters around him had become too deep even for him, and had overwhelmed him.

It was asserted in Abchurch Lane that Melmotte had allowed himself to become hampered by the want of comparatively small sums of ready money, and in seeking relief had rushed from one danger to another, till at last the waters around him had become too deep even for him, and had overwhelmed him.


As to his immediate death, Herr Croll expressed not the slightest astonishment. It was just the thing, Herr Croll said, that he had been sure that Melmotte would do, should his difficulties ever become too great for him.

As to his death, Herr Croll said that he had been sure that was what Melmotte would do, should his difficulties ever become too great.


"And dere vas a leetle ting he lay himself open by de oder day," said Croll, "dat vas nasty,--very nasty."


Nidderdale shook his head, but asked no questions.


Croll had alluded to the use of his own name, but did not on this occasion make any further revelation.

And he mentioned some other danger involving the use of his own name, but did not elaborate.


Then Croll made a further statement to Lord Nidderdale, which I think he must have done in pure good-nature. "My lor," he said, whispering very gravely, "de money of de yong lady is all her own."

Croll added, with grave good-nature, "My lor, de money of de yong lady is all her own.


"Nobody can toch it, not if he vas in debt millions."


"I am very glad to hear it for her sake," said Lord Nidderdale as he took his leave.

"I am very glad to hear it for her sake," said Lord Nidderdale as he left.


It has been told how the gambling at the Beargarden went on one Sunday night.

Chapter 28: Dolly Longestaffe goes into the City


On the following Monday Sir Felix did not go to the club.

On the Monday Sir Felix did not go to the club.


He had watched Miles Grendall at play, and was sure that on more than one or two occasions the man had cheated. Sir Felix did not quite know what in such circumstances it would be best for him to do.

He was sure that Miles Grendall had cheated at cards; and he did not quite know what to do.


Reprobate as he was himself, this work of villainy was new to him and seemed to be very terrible.

Reprobate as he was himself, this type of villainy was new to him and seemed very terrible.


He was quite sure of his facts, and yet he feared that Nidderdale and Grasslough and Longestaffe would not believe him.


He would have told Montague, but Montague had, he thought, hardly enough authority at the club to be of any use to him.

He might have told Montague, but Montague had hardly any authority at the club.


On the Tuesday again he did not go to the club.


He felt severely the loss of the excitement to which he had been accustomed, but the thing was too important to him to be slurred over. He did not dare to sit down and play with the man who had cheated him without saying anything about it.

He felt severely the loss of his usual excitement, but he did not dare to sit down and play with the man who had cheated him without saying anything about it.


On the Wednesday afternoon life was becoming unbearable to him and he sauntered into the building at about five in the afternoon.


There, as a matter of course, he found Dolly Longestaffe drinking sherry and bitters.

He found Dolly Longestaffe drinking sherry and bitters.


"Where the blessed angels have you been?"


said Dolly. Dolly was at that moment alert with the sense of a duty performed. He had just called on his sister and written a sharp letter to his father, and felt himself to be almost a man of business.

said Dolly, who had just called on his sister and written a sharp letter to his father, and at that moment felt himself to be almost a man of business.


"I've had fish of my own to fry," said Felix, who had passed the last two days in unendurable idleness.

"I've had fish to fry," said Felix, who had passed the last two days in unendurable idleness.


Then he referred again to the money which Dolly owed him, not making any complaint, not indeed asking for immediate payment, but explaining with an air of importance that if a commercial arrangement could be made, it might, at this moment, be very serviceable to him.

Then he mentioned the money which Dolly owed him, not complaining, but explaining with an air of importance that if a commercial arrangement could be made, it might be very useful to him.


"I'm particularly anxious to take up those shares," said Felix.

"I'm particularly anxious to take up those shares," he said.


"Of course you ought to have your money."


"I don't say that at all, old fellow. I know very well that you're all right.

"I know that you're all right, old fellow.


You're not like that fellow, Miles Grendall."


Poor Miles has got nothing to bless himself with."


I suppose I could get it, and so I ought to pay."


"That's no excuse for Grendall," said Sir Felix, shaking his head.

"That's no excuse," said Sir Felix, shaking his head.


"A chap can't pay if he hasn't got it, Carbury.


I've had a letter from our lawyer within the last half hour--here it is."

Here, I've just had a letter from our lawyer."


And Dolly pulled a letter out of his pocket which he had opened and read indeed within the last hour, but which had been duly delivered at his lodgings early in the morning.

And Dolly pulled a letter out of his pocket.


"My governor wants to sell Pickering, and Melmotte wants to buy the place.

"My governor wants to sell Pickering to Melmotte.


My governor can't sell without me, and I've asked for half the plunder.

He can't sell without me, and I've asked for half the plunder.


My interest in the property is greater than his.


It isn't much of a place, and they are talking of 50,000, over and above the debt upon it.


25,000 would pay off what I owe on my own property, and make me very square.


From what this fellow says I suppose they're going to give in to my terms."


"By George, that'll be a grand thing for you, Dolly."


I'm awfully lazy and can't get myself to go in for things as I ought to do; but I've a sort of feeling that I don't like the family property going to pieces.

I'm awfully lazy; but I've a sort of feeling that I don't like the family property going to pieces."


A fellow oughtn't to let his family property go to pieces."


"No;--and I don't know that it is any good.

"No; and it doesn't bring in much income.


on the money it's worth, while the governor is paying 6 per cent., and I'm paying 25, for the money we've borrowed.


It ought to be sold, and now I suppose it will be sold.


Old Melmotte knows all about it, and if you like I'll go with you to the city to-morrow and make it straight about what I owe you.

Old Melmotte knows all about it, and if you like I'll go with you to the city tomorrow and make it straight about what I owe you.


He'll advance me 1,000, and then you can get the shares.


Sir Felix said that he would dine at the club, but declared, with considerable mystery in his manner, that he could not stay and play whist afterwards.

Sir Felix said that he would dine at the club, but declared, in a mysterious manner, that he could not stay and play whist afterwards.


He acceded willingly to Dolly's plan of visiting Abchurch Lane on the following day, but had some difficulty in inducing his friend to consent to fix on an hour early enough for city purposes. Dolly suggested that they should meet at the club at 4 P.M. Sir Felix had named noon, and promised to call at Dolly's lodgings. They split the difference at last and agreed to start at two.

They agreed to meet at two the next day.


They then dined together, Miles Grendall dining alone at the next table to them.

They dined together, Miles Grendall dining alone at the table next to them.


Dolly and Grendall spoke to each other frequently, but in that conversation the young baronet would not join. Nor did Grendall ever address himself to Sir Felix.

Though Dolly and Grendall spoke to each other frequently, Felix and Grendall did not address each other at all.


"Is there anything up between you and Miles?"


said Dolly, when they had adjourned to the smoking-room.


"There never was any love between you two, I know.


But you used to speak, and you've played with him all through."


Though he did get such a haul last Sunday he owes me more than you do now."


"Is that the reason you haven't played the last two nights?"


I'll tell you all about it in the cab to-morrow."

"I'll tell you all about it in the cab tomorrow."


Then he left the club, declaring that he would go up to Grosvenor Square and see Marie Melmotte.

Then he left, declaring that he would go up to Grosvenor Square and see Marie Melmotte.


He did go up to the Square, and when he came to the house he would not go in.

He did go up to the Square, but when he came to the house he did not go in.


He could do nothing further till he got old Melmotte's consent, and in no way could he so probably do that as by showing that he had got money wherewith to buy shares in the railway.

He could do nothing without old Melmotte's consent, and the best way to get that was by showing that he had enough money to buy shares in the railway.


What he did with himself during the remainder of the evening the reader need not know, but on his return home at some comparatively early hour, he found this note from Marie.

On his return home, he found this note from Marie.


Miss Longestaffe is here of course, and people always come in in the evening.

Miss Longestaffe is here of course, and people always come in the evening.


We are just going to dine out at the Duchess of Stevenage's.

We are just going out to dine at the Duchess of Stevenage's.


Papa, and mamma and I. Mamma told me that Lord Nidderdale is to be there, but you need not be a bit afraid.


I don't like Lord Nidderdale, and I will never take any one but the man I love.

I don't like Lord Nidderdale, and I will never take anyone but the man I love.


Miss Longestaffe is so angry because she can't go with us.


What do you think of her telling me that she did not understand being left alone?


We are to go afterwards to a musical party at Lady Gamut's. Miss Longestaffe is going with us, but she says that she hates music.

She is coming with us afterwards to a musical party at Lady Gamut's, but she says she hates music.


We don't go anywhere to-morrow evening, so pray come.

We don't go anywhere tomorrow evening, so pray come.


And why haven't you written me something and sent it to Didon?

Why haven't you written me something and sent it to Didon?


And if she did, what matters? I mean to be true.


If papa were to beat me into a mummy I would stick to you.

If papa were to beat me I would stick to you.


He told me once to take Lord Nidderdale, and then he told me to refuse him. And now he wants me to take him again.

He wants me to take Lord Nidderdale again.


Now that the young lady had begun to have an interest of her own in life, she was determined to make the most of it.

Now that the young lady had begun to have an interest in life, she was determined to make the most of it.


All this was delightful to her, but to Sir Felix it was simply "a bother."


Sir Felix was quite willing to marry the girl to-morrow,--on condition of course that the money was properly arranged; but he was not willing to go through much work in the way of love-making with Marie Melmotte.

He was quite willing to marry the girl tomorrow, if the money was properly arranged; but he was not willing to go through much work in the way of love-making.


In such business he preferred Ruby Ruggles as a companion.


On the following day Felix was with his friend at the appointed time, and was only kept an hour waiting while Dolly ate his breakfast and struggled into his coat and boots.

On the following day Felix was with Dolly at the appointed time, and was only kept waiting an hour while Dolly ate his breakfast and struggled into his coat and boots.


On their way to the city Felix told his dreadful story about Miles Grendall.


I believe he always had an ace somewhere about him."


Or if I did, should take care not to look at him."


"That's all very fine, my dear fellow, but I shouldn't think of it."


"He might have said, why didn't you tell Longestaffe?"


Nobody would suppose that anybody would pick me out for this kind of thing.


If I'd known that you were going to tell me such a story as this I wouldn't have come with you."

If I'd known that you were going to tell me such a story I wouldn't have come with you."


"You mean to go on playing just the same?"


If he won anything very heavy I should begin to think about it, I suppose.


The man of money received them much more graciously than Sir Felix had expected.

Melmotte received them much more graciously than Sir Felix had expected.


Of course nothing was said about Marie and no further allusion was made to the painful subject of the baronet's "property."


Both Dolly and Sir Felix were astonished by the quick way in which the great financier understood their views and the readiness with which he undertook to comply with them.

Both Dolly and Sir Felix were astonished by the quick way in which the great financier understood their wishes and the readiness with which he complied with them.


No disagreeable questions were asked as to the nature of the debt between the young men.

No disagreeable questions were asked about the nature of the debt between the young men.


Dolly was called upon to sign a couple of documents, and Sir Felix to sign one,--and then they were assured that the thing was done.

Dolly was called upon to sign a couple of documents, and Sir Felix to sign one - and then they were assured that the thing was done.


Mr. Adolphus Longestaffe had paid Sir Felix Carbury a thousand pounds, and Sir Felix Carbury's commission had been accepted by Mr. Melmotte for the purchase of railway stock to that amount.


Sir Felix attempted to say a word. He endeavoured to explain that his object in this commercial transaction was to make money immediately by reselling the shares,--and to go on continually making money by buying at a low price and selling at a high price.

Sir Felix attempted to explain that he wanted to make money immediately by reselling the shares, and to go on continually making money by buying at a low price and selling at a high price.


He no doubt did believe that, being a Director, if he could once raise the means of beginning this game, he could go on with it for an unlimited period;--buy and sell, buy and sell;--so that he would have an almost regular income.


This, as far as he could understand, was what Paul Montague was allowed to do,--simply because he had become a Director with a little money.

This, as far as he could understand, was what Paul Montague was allowed to do, as a Director with a little money.


Mr. Melmotte was cordiality itself, but he could not be got to go into particulars.

Mr. Melmotte was cordiality itself, but he did not go into particulars.


"You will wish to sell again, of course;--of course.

"You will wish to sell again, of course; of course.


When the young men left the room all they knew, or thought that they knew, was, that Dolly Longestaffe had authorised Melmotte to pay a thousand pounds on his behalf to Sir Felix, and that Sir Felix had instructed the same great man to buy shares with the amount.


"I suppose it's all right with him," said Sir Felix.


Thousands of pounds to him are only like half-crowns to us fellows.

Thousands of pounds to him are like half-crowns to us fellows.


All the same, he's the biggest rogue out, you know."


Sir Felix already began to be unhappy about his thousand pounds.


There is no duty more certain or fixed in the world than that which calls upon a brother to defend his sister from ill-usage; but, at the same time, in the way we live now, no duty is more difficult, and we may say generally more indistinct.

A brother is duty-bound to defend his sister from ill-usage; but in the way we live now, no duty is more difficult or more indistinct.

Chapter 70: Sir Felix Meddles with Many Matters


The ill-usage to which men's sisters are most generally exposed is one which hardly admits of either protection or vengeance,--although the duty of protecting and avenging is felt and acknowledged.


We are not allowed to fight duels, and that banging about of another man with a stick is always disagreeable and seldom successful.

We are not allowed to fight duels, and banging about another man with a stick is always disagreeable and seldom successful.


A John Crumb can do it, perhaps, and come out of the affair exulting; but not a Sir Felix Carbury, even if the Sir Felix of the occasion have the requisite courage.

A John Crumb can do it, perhaps; but not a Sir Felix Carbury.


There is a feeling, too, when a girl has been jilted,--thrown over, perhaps, is the proper term,--after the gentleman has had the fun of making love to her for an entire season, and has perhaps even been allowed privileges as her promised husband, that the less said the better.

There is a feeling, too, when a girl has been jilted after the gentleman has had the fun of making love to her for an entire season, and has perhaps even been allowed privileges as her promised husband, that the less said the better.


The girl does not mean to break her heart for love of the false one, and become the tragic heroine of a tale for three months.

The girl does not mean to break her heart.


--trick her beams, and with new-spangled ore Flame in the forehead of the morning sky.


Though this one has been false, as were perhaps two or three before, still the road to success is open.

Though this one has been false, the road to success is still open.


But if all the notoriety of cudgels and cutting whips be given to the late unfortunate affair, the difficulty of finding a substitute will be greatly increased.

But if the affair is made notorious by a fight, the difficulty of finding a substitute will be greatly increased.


The brother recognises his duty, and prepares for vengeance. The injured one probably desires that she may be left to fight her own little battles alone.
"Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me," Sir Felix had said very grandly, when his sister had told him that she was engaged to a man who was, as he thought he knew, engaged also to marry another woman. Here, no doubt, was gross ill-usage, and opportunity at any rate for threats.

Sir Felix had vowed to avenge his sister for her ill-usage by Paul Montague.


No money was required and no immediate action,--and Sir Felix could act the fine gentleman and the dictatorial brother at very little present expense.


But Hetta, who ought perhaps to have known her brother more thoroughly, was fool enough to believe him.

And Hetta was fool enough to believe him.


On the day but one following, no answer had as yet come from Roger Carbury,--nor could as yet have come.

Two days later, no answer had yet come from Roger Carbury.


But Hetta's mind was full of her trouble, and she remembered her brother's threat. Felix had forgotten that he had made a threat,--and, indeed, had thought no more of the matter since his interview with his sister.

Hetta's mind was full of her trouble, and she remembered her brother's threat, which Felix had forgotten.


"Felix," she said, "you won't mention that to Mr. Montague!"


A man who does that kind of thing ought to be crushed;--and, by heavens, if he does it to you, he shall be crushed."

A man who does that kind of thing ought to be crushed; and, by heavens, if he does it to you, he shall be crushed."


"Felix, if it is so, I will see him no more."


What has Roger Carbury to do with our affairs?"


If he says so, that is, if you and he both say that he is to marry that woman,--I will not see Mr. Montague again.

If you and he both say that he is to marry that woman, I will not see Mr. Montague again.


If such a misfortune does come, it is better to bear it and to be silent.


"Leave that to me," said Sir Felix, walking out of the room with much fraternal bluster.


Then he went forth, and at once had himself driven to Paul Montague's lodgings.

Then he had himself driven to Paul Montague's lodgings.


Had Hetta not been foolish enough to remind him of his duty, he would not now have undertaken the task.

Had Hetta not been foolish enough to remind him of his duty, he would not have done it.


He too, no doubt, remembered as he went that duels were things of the past, and that even fists and sticks are considered to be out of fashion.


"Montague," he said, assuming all the dignity of demeanour that his late sorrows had left to him, "I believe I am right in saying that you are engaged to marry that American lady, Mrs. Hurtle."

"Montague," he said, with all the dignity that his late sorrows had left to him, "I believe I am right in saying that you are engaged to marry that American lady, Mrs. Hurtle."


"Then let me tell you that you were never more wrong in your life.

"You were never more wrong in your life.


What business have you with Mrs. Hurtle?"


"When a man proposes to my sister, I think I've a great deal of business," said Sir Felix.


If I answered you roughly, I beg your pardon.


But I am not going to marry Mrs. Hurtle.


I suppose I know how you have heard her name;--but as you have heard it, I have no hesitation in telling you so much.


As you know where she is to be found you can go and ask her if you please.


On the other hand, it is the dearest wish of my heart to marry your sister."


"My dear Carbury, I don't think I'm bound to tell you all the details of my past life.


At any rate, I don't feel inclined to do so in answer to hostile questions.


I dare say you have heard enough of Mrs. Hurtle to justify you, as your sister's brother, in asking me whether I am in any way entangled by a connection with her. I tell you that I am not.

I tell you that I am not connected with Mrs. Hurtle.


If you still doubt, I refer you to the lady herself.


Beyond that, I do not think I am called on to go; and beyond that I won't go,--at any rate, at present."


Sir Felix still blustered, and made what capital he could out of his position as a brother; but he took no steps towards positive revenge. "Of course, Carbury," said the other, "I wish to regard you as a brother; and if I am rough to you, it is only because you are rough to me."

Of course, Carbury," said Paul, "I wish to regard you as a brother."
Sir Felix blustered, but took no steps towards revenge.


Sir Felix was now in that part of town which he had been accustomed to haunt,--for the first time since his misadventure,--and, plucking up his courage, resolved that he would turn into the Beargarden. He would have a glass of sherry, and face the one or two men who would as yet be there, and in this way gradually creep back to his old habits.

Instead he left. He was now near his old haunts, and for the first time since his misadventure, resolved to go to the Beargarden for a glass of sherry, and in this way gradually creep back to his old habits.


But when he arrived there, the club was shut up.


He rang the bell, and knocked at the door, feeling that this was an occasion for courage.

He rang the bell, and knocked at the door.


One of the servants, in what we may call private clothes, after some delay, drew back the bolts, and told him the astounding news;--The club was shut up! "Do you mean to say I can't come in?" said Sir Felix. The man certainly did mean to tell him so, for he opened the door no more than a foot, and stood in that narrow aperture. Mr. Vossner had gone away. There had been a meeting of the Committee, and the club was shut up.

One of the servants eventually drew back the bolts, and told him the astounding news: Mr. Vossner had gone away; there had been a meeting of the Committee, and the club was shut.


Whatever further information rested in the waiter's bosom he declined to communicate to Sir Felix Carbury.


The wrong that was done him filled the young baronet's bosom with indignation.

The young baronet was filled with indignation.


He had intended, he assured himself, to dine at his club, to spend the evening there sportively, to be pleasant among his chosen companions.


And now the club was shut up, and Vossner had gone away!


What business had the club to be shut up?


Had he not paid his subscription in advance?


Throughout the world, the more wrong a man does, the more indignant is he at wrong done to him.


Sir Felix almost thought that he could recover damages from the whole Committee.


When he made that half promise of marriage in Mrs. Pipkin's hearing, he had said that he would come again on the morrow.


This he had not done; but of that he thought nothing.


Such breaches of faith, when committed by a young man in his position, require not even an apology.


He was admitted by Ruby herself, who was of course delighted to see him.


"John Crumb; but though he came here ever so smart, I wouldn't so much as speak to him, except to tell him to go away."


Sir Felix, when he heard the name, felt an uncomfortable sensation creep over him.

Sir Felix felt an uncomfortable sensation creep over him.


"I don't know I'm sure what he should come after me for, and me telling him as plain as the nose on his face that I never want to see him again."

"I don't know what he should come after me for, when I told him as plain as the nose on his face that I never want to see him again."


"He's not of much account," said the baronet.


"He would marry me out and out immediately, if I'd have him," continued Ruby, who perhaps thought that her honest old lover should not be spoken of as being altogether of no account.

"He would marry me immediately, if I'd have him," continued Ruby, who perhaps thought that her honest old lover should not be spoken of as being of no account.


"And he has everything comfortable in the way of furniture, and all that. And they do say he's ever so much money in the bank.

"And he has everything comfortable in his house, and they say he's ever so much money in the bank.


But I detest him," said Ruby, shaking her pretty head, and inclining herself towards her aristocratic lover's shoulder.

But I detest him," said Ruby, shaking her pretty head, and leaning on her aristocratic lover's shoulder.


This took place in the back parlour, before Mrs. Pipkin had ascended from the kitchen prepared to disturb so much romantic bliss with wretched references to the cold outer world.

This took place in the back parlour. Then Mrs. Pipkin ascended from the kitchen prepared to disturb the romantic bliss with wretched references to the cold outer world.


"Well, now, Sir Felix," she began, "if things is square, of course you're welcome to see my niece."


"And what if they're round, Mrs. Pipkin?"


said the gallant, careless, sparkling Lothario.


"Well, or round either, so long as they're honest."


"Ruby and I are both honest;--ain't we, Ruby?

"Ruby and I are both honest; ain't we, Ruby?


I want to take her out to dinner, Mrs. Pipkin.


She shall be back before late;--before ten; she shall indeed."


Ruby inclined herself still more closely towards his shoulder.


"Come, Ruby, get your hat and change your dress, and we'll be off.

Come, Ruby, get your hat and we'll be off.


They must be to fix a day for the marriage, and to let her know where they were to live, and to settle what dress she should wear,--and perhaps to give her the money to go and buy it!

They must be to fix a day for the marriage, and to let her know where they were to live, and to settle what dress she should wear - and perhaps to give her the money to go and buy it!


She looked up into Mrs. Pipkin's face with imploring eyes.

Ruby looked up into Mrs. Pipkin's face with imploring eyes.


Surely on such an occasion as this an aunt would not expect that her niece should be a prisoner and a slave.


"Have it been put in writing, Sir Felix Carbury?"

"Have it been put in writing, Sir Felix?"


demanded Mrs. Pipkin with cruel gravity.


Mrs. Hurtle had given it as her decided opinion that Sir Felix would not really mean to marry Ruby Ruggles unless he showed himself willing to do so with all the formality of a written contract.


But when a gentleman has intentions, a bit of writing shows it plainer nor words.


Ruby don't go no where to dine unless you puts it into writing."

Ruby don't go out to dine unless you puts it into writing."


"What do you think I'm going to do with her?"


"If you want to make her your wife, put it in writing.


And if it be as you don't, just say so, and walk away,--free."

And if you don't, just say so, and walk away, free."


"I'm not going to be kept here a prisoner for any one.

"I'm not going to be kept here a prisoner.


You wait, Felix, and I'll be down in a minute."


The girl, with a nimble spring, ran upstairs, and began to change her dress without giving herself a moment for thought.

The girl ran nimbly upstairs, and began to change her dress.


"She don't come back no more here, Sir Felix," said Mrs. Pipkin, in her most solemn tones.

"She don't come back here no more, Sir Felix," said Mrs. Pipkin, in her most solemn tones.


"She ain't nothing to me, no more than she was my poor dear husband's sister's child.


There ain't no blood between us, and won't be no disgrace.


"But I'd be loth to see her on the streets."


"Then why won't you let me bring her back again?"


"'Cause that'd be the way to send her there.


It's just a bit of sport,--and then there she is, an old shoe to be chucked away, just a rag to be swept into the dust-bin.

It's just a bit of sport - she's an old shoe to be chucked away, a rag to be swept into the dust-bin.


I've seen scores of 'em, and I'd sooner a child of mine should die in a workus', or be starved to death.


But it's all nothing to the likes o' you."


"I haven't done her any harm," said Sir Felix, almost frightened.


"Mrs. Hurtle hasn't been able to manage her own affairs very well."


"Mrs. Hurtle's a lady, Sir Felix, and a widow, and one as has seen the world."


As she spoke, Mrs. Hurtle came downstairs, and an introduction, after some rude fashion, was effected between her and Sir Felix.

As she spoke, Mrs. Hurtle came downstairs, and was introduced to Sir Felix.


Mrs. Hurtle had heard often of Sir Felix Carbury, and was quite as certain as Mrs. Pipkin that he did not mean to marry Ruby Ruggles.


In a few minutes Felix found himself alone with Mrs. Hurtle in her own room.


He had been anxious to see the woman since he had heard of her engagement with Paul Montague, and doubly anxious since he had also heard of Paul's engagement with his sister.

He had been anxious to see her since he had heard of her engagement with Paul Montague.


It was not an hour since Paul himself had referred him to her for corroboration of his own statement.


"Sir Felix Carbury," she said, "I am afraid you are doing that poor girl no good, and are intending to do her none."


It did occur to him very strongly that this could be no affair of Mrs. Hurtle's, and that he, as a man of position in society, was being interfered with in an unjustifiable manner.


Aunt Pipkin wasn't even an aunt; but who was Mrs. Hurtle?


"Would it not be better that you should leave her to become the wife of a man who is really fond of her?"

Would it not be better that you should leave her to marry a man who is really fond of her?"


He could already see something in Mrs. Hurtle's eye which prevented his at once bursting into wrath;--but who was Mrs. Hurtle, that she should interfere with him?

He could already see something in Mrs. Hurtle's eye which prevented his at once bursting into wrath; but who was Mrs. Hurtle, that she should interfere with him?


"Upon my word, ma'am," he said, "I'm very much obliged to you, but I don't quite know to what I owe the honour of your--your--"

"Upon my word, ma'am," he said, "I'm very much obliged to you, but I don't quite know to what I owe the honour of your - your-"


"I didn't say so, but perhaps that's about it."


"I'd interfere to save any woman that God ever made," said Mrs. Hurtle with energy.


"We're all apt to wait a little too long, because we're ashamed to do any little good that chance puts in our way.


"I suppose she may do as she pleases about that."


"Does Mr. Paul Montague mean to make you his wife?"


rejoined Sir Felix with an impudent swagger.


He had struck the blow certainly hard enough, and it had gone all the way home.

He had certainly struck the blow hard enough, and it went all the way home.


She had not surmised that he would have heard aught of her own concerns.

She had not thought that he would have heard anything of her own concerns.


She only barely connected him with that Roger Carbury who, she knew, was Paul's great friend, and she had as yet never heard that Hetta Carbury was the girl whom Paul loved.

She did not know that Hetta Carbury was the girl whom Paul loved.


Had Paul so talked about her that this young scamp should know all her story?

Had Paul talked about her so that this young scamp knew all her story?


She thought awhile,--she had to think for a moment,--before she could answer him.

She thought awhile before she could answer him.


"I do not see," she said, with a faint attempt at a smile, "that there is any parallel between the two cases.

"I do not see," she said, "that there is any parallel between the two cases.


I, at any rate, am old enough to take care of myself.


Should he not marry me, I am as I was before.


Will it be so with that poor girl if she allows herself to be taken about the town by you at night?"


She had desired in what she said to protect Ruby rather than herself.


What could it matter whether this young man was left in a belief that she was, or that she was not, about to be married?


"If you'll answer me, I'll answer you," said Sir Felix.


"Does Mr. Montague mean to make you his wife?"


"It does not concern you to know," said she, flashing upon him.

"It does not concern you," said she, flashing upon him.


"It does concern me,--a great deal more than anything about Ruby can concern you.


And as you won't answer me, I won't answer you."


"Then, sir, that girl's fate will be upon your head."


"I know all about that," said the baronet.


"And the young man who has followed her up to town will probably know where to find you," added Mrs. Hurtle.


To such a threat as this, no answer could be made, and Sir Felix left the room.

Without answering, Sir Felix left the room.


At any rate, John Crumb was not there at present.


And what additional harm would be done to John Crumb, or what increase of anger engendered in that true lover's breast, by one additional evening's amusement?


Ruby had danced with him so often at the Music Hall that John Crumb could hardly be made more bellicose by the fact of her dining with him on this evening.


When he descended, he found Ruby in the hall, all arrayed.


"You don't come in here again to-night," said Mrs. Pipkin, thumping the little table which stood in the passage, "if you goes out of that there door with that there young man."

"You don't come in here again tonight," said Mrs. Pipkin, "if you goes out of that there door with that there young man."


"Then I shall," said Ruby linking herself on to her lover's arm.

"Then I shall," said Ruby, linking herself on to her lover's arm.


said Mrs. Pipkin; "after all I've done for you, just as one as though you were my own flesh and blood."

said Mrs. Pipkin; "after all I've done for you, just as though you were my own flesh and blood."


"I've worked for it, I suppose;--haven't I?"


"You send for your things to-morrow, for you don't come in here no more.

"You send for your things tomorrow, for you don't come here no more.


You ain't nothing to me no more nor no other girl.


But I'd 've saved you, if you'd but a' let me.


As for you,"--and she looked at Sir Felix,--"only because I've lodgings to let, and because of the lady upstairs, I'd shake you that well, you'd never come here no more after poor girls."

As for you," - and she looked at Sir Felix - "I'd like to shake you."


I do not think that she need have feared any remonstrance from Mrs. Hurtle, even had she put her threat into execution.


Sir Felix, thinking that he had had enough of Mrs. Pipkin and her lodger, left the house with Ruby on his arm.

Sir Felix left the house with Ruby on his arm.


For the moment, Ruby had been triumphant, and was happy.

For the moment, she was triumphant and happy.


She did not stop to consider whether her aunt would or would not open her door when she should return tired, and perhaps repentant.

She did not stop to consider whether her aunt would open her door when she returned.


She was on her lover's arm, in her best clothes, and going to have a dinner given to her.

She was on her lover's arm, in her best clothes, and going to dinner.


And her lover had told her that he had ever so many things,--ever so many things to say to her!

And her lover had told her that he had ever so many things to say to her!


But she would ask no impertinent questions in the first hour of her bliss.


It was so pleasant to walk with him up to Pentonville;--so joyous to turn into a gay enclosure, half public-house and half tea-garden; so pleasant to hear him order the good things, which in his company would be so nice!

It was so pleasant to walk with him up to Pentonville, and turn into a gay tea-garden; so pleasant to hear him order good things!


Who cannot understand that even an urban Rosherville must be an Elysium to those who have lately been eating their meals in all the gloom of a small London underground kitchen?


So there we will leave Ruby in her bliss.


At about nine that evening John Crumb called at Mrs. Pipkin's, and was told that Ruby had gone out with Sir Felix Carbury.


He hit his leg a blow with his fist, and glared out of his eyes.


"He'll have it hot some day," said John Crumb.

"He'll have it hot some day," said John Crumb, glaring.


He was allowed to remain waiting for Ruby till midnight, and then, with a sorrowful heart, he took his departure.

He was allowed to remain waiting for Ruby till midnight, and then, with a sorrowful heart, he departed.


Lady Carbury had allowed herself two days for answering Mr. Broune's proposition.

Lady Carbury had allowed herself two days for answering Mr. Broune's proposal.


It was made on Tuesday night and she was bound by her promise to send a reply some time on Thursday.

It was made on Tuesday night and she had promised to send a reply on Thursday.


But early on the Wednesday morning she had made up her mind; and at noon on that day her letter was written.

But early on the Wednesday morning she had made up her mind; and by noon her letter was written.


She had spoken to Hetta about the man, and she had seen that Hetta had disliked him.

She had spoken to Hetta about him, and had seen that Hetta disliked him.


She was not disposed to be much guided by Hetta's opinion.

She was not usually much guided by Hetta's opinion.


In regard to her daughter she was always influenced by a vague idea that Hetta was an unnecessary trouble.


There was an excellent match ready for her if she would only accept it. There was no reason why Hetta should continue to add herself to the family burden. She never said this even to herself,--but she felt it, and was not therefore inclined to consult Hetta's comfort on this occasion.

There was an excellent match ready for Hetta if she would only accept it; and she was not therefore inclined to consult Hetta's comfort on this occasion.


But nevertheless, what her daughter said had its effect.


She had encountered the troubles of one marriage, and they had been very bad.


She did not look upon that marriage as a mistake,--having even up to this day a consciousness that it had been the business of her life, as a portionless girl, to obtain maintenance and position at the expense of suffering and servility.


The maintenance was, indeed, again doubtful, because of her son's vices; but it might so probably be again secured,--by means of her son's beauty!


Hetta had said that Mr. Broune liked his own way.


Had not she herself found that all men liked their own way?


She liked the comfort of a home to herself.


Personally she did not want the companionship of a husband.


And what scenes would there be between Felix and the man!


And added to all this there was something within her, almost amounting to conscience, which told her that it was not right that she should burden any one with the responsibility and inevitable troubles of such a son as her son Felix.

Added to all this, something within her, almost amounting to conscience, told her that it was not right to burden any one with the inevitable troubles of such a son as Felix.


What would she do were her husband to command her to separate herself from her son?


In such circumstances she would certainly separate herself from her husband.

In that case she would certainly separate herself from her husband.


Having considered these things deeply, she wrote as follows to Mr. Broune:--


I need not tell you that I have thought much of your generous and affectionate offer.

I need not tell you that I have thought much of your generous offer.


How could I refuse such a prospect as you offer me without much thought?

How could I refuse such a prospect without much thought?


I regard your career as the most noble which a man's ambition can achieve. And in that career no one is your superior.

I regard your career as noble; and in that career no one is your superior.


I cannot but be proud that such a one as you should have asked me to be his wife.

I am proud that you should have asked me to be your wife.


But, my friend, life is subject to wounds which are incurable, and my life has been so wounded.

But, my friend, my life has been wounded.


I have not strength left me to make my heart whole enough to be worthy of your acceptance.


I have been so cut and scotched and lopped by the sufferings which I have endured that I am best alone.

I have been so cut and lopped by my sufferings that I am best alone.


It cannot all be described;--and yet with you I would have no reticence.


I would put the whole history before you to read, with all my troubles past and still present, all my hopes, and all my fears,--with every circumstance as it has passed by and every expectation that remains, were it not that the poor tale would be too long for your patience.

I would put the whole sorrowful history before you to read, were it not that the poor tale would be too long for your patience.


The result of it would be to make you feel that I am no longer fit to enter in upon a new home.

You would then understand that I am no longer fit to enter in upon a new home.


I should bring showers instead of sunshine, melancholy in lieu of mirth.

I should bring showers instead of sunshine, melancholy instead of mirth.


I will, however, be bold enough to assure you that could I bring myself to be the wife of any man I would now become your wife.

I will, however, be bold enough to assure you that could I marry any man it would be you.


Nevertheless, I am your most affectionate friend,


About six o'clock in the afternoon she sent this letter to Mr. Broune's rooms in Pall Mall East, and then sat for awhile alone,--full of regrets.

She sent this letter to Mr. Broune's rooms in Pall Mall East, and then sat for a while alone, full of regrets.


She had thrown away from her a firm footing which would certainly have served her for her whole life.


Even at this moment she was in debt,--and did not know how to pay her debts without mortgaging her life income.

Even at this moment she was in debt - and did not know how to pay her debts without mortgaging her life income.


She longed for some staff on which she could lean.


When she would sit with her paper before her, preparing her future work for the press, copying a bit here and a bit there, inventing historical details, dovetailing her chronicle, her head would sometimes seem to be going round as she remembered the unpaid baker, and her son's horses, and his unmeaning dissipation, and all her doubts about the marriage.

When she was trying to write, her head would sometimes seem to be full of the unpaid baker, and her son's horses, and his dissipation.


As regarded herself, Mr. Broune would have made her secure,--but that now was all over.

Mr. Broune would have made her secure - but that was all over.


This at any rate may be said for her,--that had she accepted the man her regrets would have been as deep.

Yet if she had accepted him she would now be feeling equal regret.


Mr. Broune's feelings were more decided in their tone than those of the lady.

Mr. Broune's feelings were more decided than Lady Carbury's.


He had not made his offer without consideration, and yet from the very moment in which it had been made he repented it.

From the moment he had made his proposal he had repented it.


That gently sarcastic appellation by which Lady Carbury had described him to herself when he had kissed her best explained that side of Mr. Broune's character which showed itself in this matter. He was a susceptible old goose.

He was indeed what Lady Carbury had called him: a susceptible old goose.


Had she allowed him to kiss her without objection, the kissing might probably have gone on; and, whatever might have come of it, there would have been no offer of marriage.

Had she allowed him to kiss her without objection, there would have been no offer of marriage.


He had believed that her little manoeuvres had indicated love on her part, and he had felt himself constrained to reciprocate the passion.

He had believed that her little manuvres had indicated love on her part, and he had felt himself obliged to return it.


She was beautiful in his eyes. She was bright. She wore her clothes like a lady; and,--if it was written in the Book of the Fates that some lady was to sit at the top of his table,--Lady Carbury would look as well there as any other.

She was beautiful in his eyes, she was bright, and she wore her clothes like a lady.


She had repudiated the kiss, and therefore he had felt himself bound to obtain for himself the right to kiss her.

When she had repudiated the kiss, he had felt himself bound to obtain the right to kiss her.


The offer had no sooner been made than he met her son reeling in, drunk, at the front door.


As he made his escape the lad had insulted him.


When he woke the next morning, or rather late in the next day, after his night's work, he was no longer able to tell himself that the world was all right with him.

When he woke the next day, he no longer felt that the world was all right with him.


Who does not know that sudden thoughtfulness at waking, that first matutinal retrospection, and pro-spection, into things as they have been and are to be; and the lowness of heart, the blankness of hope which follows the first remembrance of some folly lately done, some word ill-spoken, some money misspent,--or perhaps a cigar too much, or a glass of brandy and soda-water which he should have left untasted?

Who does not know that sudden thoughtfulness at waking; the lowness of heart, the blankness of hope at the remembrance of some folly?


And when things have gone well, how the waker comforts himself among the bedclothes as he claims for himself to be whole all over, teres atque rotundus,--so to have managed his little affairs that he has to fear no harm, and to blush inwardly at no error!


Mr. Broune, the way of whose life took him among many perils, who in the course of his work had to steer his bark among many rocks, was in the habit of thus auditing his daily account as he shook off sleep about noon,--for such was his lot, that he seldom was in bed before four or five in the morning.


On this Wednesday he found that he could not balance his sheet comfortably.

On this Wednesday Mr. Broune found himself uncomfortable.


He had taken a very great step and he feared that he had not taken it with wisdom.

He had taken a very great step and he feared that he had not taken it wisely.


As he drank the cup of tea with which his servant supplied him while he was yet in bed, he could not say of himself, teres atque rotundus, as he was wont to do when things were well with him.


As he lit a cigarette he bethought himself that Lady Carbury would not like him to smoke in her bedroom.

As he lit a cigarette he thought that Lady Carbury would not like him to smoke in her bedroom.


"I'll be d---- if he shall live in my house," he said to himself.

"I'll be d____ if he shall live in my house," he said to himself.


It did not occur to the man that his offer could be refused.


During the whole of that day he went about among his friends in a melancholy fashion, saying little snappish uncivil things at the club, and at last dining by himself with about fifteen newspapers around him.

During that day he went about in a melancholy fashion, saying snappish things at the club, and dining by himself with about fifteen newspapers around him.


After dinner he did not speak a word to any man, but went early to the office of the newspaper in Trafalgar Square at which he did his nightly work. Here he was lapped in comforts,--if the best of chairs, of sofas, of writing tables, and of reading lamps can make a man comfortable who has to read nightly thirty columns of a newspaper, or at any rate to make himself responsible for their contents.
He seated himself to his work like a man, but immediately saw Lady Carbury's letter on the table before him.

After dinner he went early to the office of the newspaper in Trafalgar Square where he did his nightly work - and immediately saw Lady Carbury's letter on the table before him.


It was his custom when he did not dine at home to have such documents brought to him at his office as had reached his home during his absence;--and here was Lady Carbury's letter.


He knew her writing well, and was aware that here was the confirmation of his fate. It had not been expected, as she had given herself another day for her answer,--but here it was, beneath his hand.

He knew her writing well, and was aware that here was the confirmation of his fate a day earlier than promised.


Surely this was almost unfeminine haste. He chucked the letter, unopened, a little from him, and endeavoured to fix his attention on some printed slip that was ready for him. For some ten minutes his eyes went rapidly down the lines, but he found that his mind did not follow what he was reading.

She had accepted him with unseemly haste. He pushed the letter away, and tried to read for some ten minutes, but he found that his mind did not follow what he was reading.


He struggled again, but still his thoughts were on the letter. He did not wish to open it, having some vague idea that, till the letter should have been read, there was a chance of escape. The letter would not become due to be read till the next day. It should not have been there now to tempt his thoughts on this night. But he could do nothing while it lay there.

He struggled again, but he could do nothing while the letter lay there.


"It shall be a part of the bargain that I shall never have to see him," he said to himself, as he opened it.

"It shall be a part of the bargain that I shall never have to see Felix," he said to himself, as he opened it.


The second line told him that the danger was over.


When he had read so far he stood up with his back to the fire-place, leaving the letter on the table.

At once he stood up, leaving the letter on the table.


Then, after all, the woman wasn't in love with him!


But that was a reading of the affair which he could hardly bring himself to look upon as correct.


The woman had shown her love by a thousand signs.

But she had shown her love by a thousand signs.


There was no doubt, however, that she now had her triumph.


A woman always has a triumph when she rejects a man,--and more especially when she does so at a certain time of life.

A woman always has a triumph when she rejects a man.


Mr. Broune would not like to have it known about among brother editors, or by the world at large, that he had offered to marry Lady Carbury and that Lady Carbury had refused him.

Mr. Broune would not like to have it known among his brother editors that he had offered to marry Lady Carbury and that she had refused him.


He had escaped; but the sweetness of his present safety was not in proportion to the bitterness of his late fears.


He could not understand why Lady Carbury should have refused him!


As he reflected upon it, all memory of her son for the moment passed away from him. Full ten minutes had passed, during which he had still stood upon the rug, before he read the entire letter.

He reflected upon it for full ten minutes, before he read the entire letter.


I suppose she has been," he said to himself.


He had heard much of Sir Patrick, and knew well that the old general had been no lamb.


"I shouldn't have cut her, or scotched her, or lopped her."


When he had read the whole letter patiently there crept upon him gradually a feeling of admiration for her, greater than he had ever yet felt,--and, for awhile, he almost thought that he would renew his offer to her.

When he had read the whole letter there crept upon him gradually a feeling of admiration for her so great that, for a while, he almost thought that he would renew his offer.


"'Showers instead of sunshine; melancholy instead of mirth,'" he repeated to himself.


"I should have done the best for her, taking the showers and the melancholy if they were necessary."

"I should have done the best for her, taking the showers and the melancholy."


He went to his work in a mixed frame of mind, but certainly without that dragging weight which had oppressed him when he entered the room.


Gradually, through the night, he realised the conviction that he had escaped, and threw from him altogether the idea of repeating his offer.

Gradually, he realised that he had escaped, and rejected the idea of repeating his offer.


This he sent by a special messenger, who returned with a note to his lodgings long before he was up on the following morning.

This he sent by a special messenger, who returned with a note to his lodgings.


No word of this will ever pass my mouth.


Mr. Broune thought that he was very well out of the danger, and resolved that Lady Carbury should never want anything that his friendship could do for her.

Mr. Broune thought that he was very well out of the danger, and resolved that Lady Carbury should never lack anything that his friendship could do for her.


We must now go back a little in our story,--about three weeks,--in order that the reader may be told how affairs were progressing at the Beargarden.

We must now go back about three weeks in our story, so that the reader may be told how affairs were progressing at the Beargarden.

Chapter 96: Where "The Wild Asses Quench Their Thirst"


That establishment had received a terrible blow in the defection of Herr Vossner.


It was not only that he had robbed the club, and robbed every member of the club who had ventured to have personal dealings with him.

It was not only that he had robbed the club, and robbed every member of the club who had had personal dealings with him.


Although a bad feeling in regard to him was no doubt engendered in the minds of those who had suffered deeply, it was not that alone which cast an almost funereal gloom over the club.


The sorrow was in this,--that with Herr Vossner all their comforts had gone.

The sorrow was also in this - that with Herr Vossner all their comforts had gone.


Of course Herr Vossner had been a thief.


That no doubt had been known to them from the beginning.


A man does not consent to be called out of bed at all hours in the morning to arrange the gambling accounts of young gentlemen without being a thief.


No one concerned with Herr Vossner had supposed him to be an honest man.

No one had supposed him to be an honest man.


But then as a thief he had been so comfortable that his absence was regretted with a tenderness almost amounting to love even by those who had suffered most severely from his rapacity.

But as a thief he had been so comfortable that his absence was regretted with a tenderness almost amounting to love.


Dolly Longestaffe had been robbed more outrageously than any other member of the club, and yet Dolly Longestaffe had said since the departure of the purveyor that London was not worth living in now that Herr Vossner was gone.

Dolly Longestaffe had been robbed more outrageously than any other member of the club, and yet Dolly said that London was not worth living in now that Herr Vossner was gone.


In a week the Beargarden collapsed,--as Germany would collapse for a period if Herr Vossner's great compatriot were suddenly to remove himself from the scene; but as Germany would strive to live even without Bismarck, so did the club make its new efforts.


Germany no doubt would at last succeed, but the Beargarden had received a blow from which it seemed that there was no recovery.

The Beargarden had received a blow from which it seemed that there was no recovery.


At first it was proposed that three men should be appointed as trustees,--trustees for paying Vossner's debts, trustees for borrowing more money, trustees for the satisfaction of the landlord who was beginning to be anxious as to his future rent.

At first it was proposed that trustees should be appointed to pay Vossner's debts and borrow more money.


At a certain very triumphant general meeting of the club it was determined that such a plan should be arranged, and the members assembled were unanimous.


It was at first thought that there might be a little jealousy as to the trusteeship.


The club was so popular and the authority conveyed by the position would be so great, that A, B, and C might feel aggrieved at seeing so much power conferred on D, E, and F. When at the meeting above mentioned one or two names were suggested, the final choice was postponed, as a matter of detail to be arranged privately, rather from this consideration than with any idea that there might be a difficulty in finding adequate persons.


But even the leading members of the Beargarden hesitated when the proposition was submitted to them with all its honours and all its responsibilities.

But the members of the Beargarden hesitated at these honours and responsibilities.


Lord Nidderdale declared from the beginning that he would have nothing to do with it,--pleading his poverty openly.

Lord Nidderdale declared that he would have nothing to do with it.


Beauchamp Beauclerk was of opinion that he himself did not frequent the club often enough.


Mr. Lupton professed his inability as a man of business.


The club from the first had been sure of Dolly Longestaffe's services;--for were not Dolly's pecuniary affairs now in process of satisfactory arrangement, and was it not known by all men that his courage never failed him in regard to money? But even he declined.


"I have spoken to Squercum," he said to the Committee, "and Squercum won't hear of it.


Squercum has made inquiries and he thinks the club very shaky."


When one of the Committee made a remark as to Mr. Squercum which was not complimentary,--insinuated indeed that Squercum without injustice might be consigned to the infernal deities,--Dolly took the matter up warmly.


"That's all very well for you, Grasslough; but if you knew the comfort of having a fellow who could keep you straight without preaching sermons at you you wouldn't despise Squercum.


I've tried to go alone and I find that does not answer.


Squercum's my coach, and I mean to stick pretty close to him."


Then it came to pass that the triumphant project as to the trustees fell to the ground, although Squercum himself advised that the difficulty might be lessened if three gentlemen could be selected who lived well before the world and yet had nothing to lose.


Whereupon Dolly suggested Miles Grendall.


But the Committee shook its heads, not thinking it possible that the club could be re-established on a basis of three Miles Grendalls.


The Beargarden must surely be abandoned.


"It is such a pity," said Nidderdale, "because there never has been anything like it."


"No horrid nonsense about closing," said Grasslough, "and no infernal old fogies wearing out the carpets and paying for nothing."


"Not a vestige of propriety, or any beastly rules to be kept!


"It's an old story," said Mr. Lupton, "that if you put a man into Paradise he'll make it too hot to hold him.


"What we ought to do," said Dolly, who was pervaded by a sense of his own good fortune in regard to Squercum, "is to get some fellow like Vossner, and make him tell us how much he wants to steal above his regular pay.

What we ought to do is to get some fellow like Vossner, and make him tell us how much he wants to steal above his regular pay.


Squercum would find a fellow, no doubt."


But Mr. Lupton was of opinion that the new Vossner might perhaps not know, when thus consulted, the extent of his own cupidity.

But Mr. Lupton was of the opinion that the new Vossner might perhaps not know, when thus consulted, the extent of his own cupidity.


One day, before the Whitstable marriage, when it was understood that the club would actually be closed on the 12th August unless some new heaven-inspired idea might be forthcoming for its salvation, Nidderdale, Grasslough, and Dolly were hanging about the hall and the steps, and drinking sherry and bitters preparatory to dinner, when Sir Felix Carbury came round the neighbouring corner and, in a creeping, hesitating fashion, entered the hall door.

The club would therefore be closed on the 12th August unless some new heaven-inspired idea might be forthcoming for its salvation. One day, Nidderdale, Grasslough, and Dolly were hanging about the steps, drinking sherry and bitters before dinner, when Sir Felix Carbury came creeping round the corner and, in a hesitating manner, entered the door.


He had nearly recovered from his wounds, though he still wore a bit of court plaster on his upper lip, and had not yet learned to look or to speak as though he had not had two of his front teeth knocked out.

He had nearly recovered from his wounds, though he had not yet learned to look or speak as though he had not had two of his front teeth knocked out.


He had heard little or nothing of what had been done at the Beargarden since Vossner's defection. It was now a month since he had been seen at the club.

He had heard little of the Beargarden lately; it was a month since he had been seen at the club.


His thrashing had been the wonder of perhaps half nine days, but latterly his existence had been almost forgotten.

His thrashing had been the wonder of a few days, and then he had been almost forgotten.


Now, with difficulty, he had summoned courage to go down to his old haunt, so completely had he been cowed by the latter circumstances of his life; but he had determined that he would pluck up his courage, and talk to his old associates as though no evil thing had befallen him.

Now, with difficulty, he had summoned courage to go down to his old haunt and talk to his associates as though nothing had happened to him.


He had still money enough to pay for his dinner and to begin a small rubber of whist.


If fortune should go against him he might glide into I. O. U.'s;--as others had done before, so much to his cost.


Lord Grasslough whistled, turned his back, and walked up-stairs; but Nidderdale and Dolly consented to have their hands shaken by the stranger.

Lord Grasslough whistled, turned his back, and walked upstairs; but Nidderdale and Dolly shook hands with him.


"Thought you were out of town," said Nidderdale.


"Haven't seen you for the last ever so long."


"I have been out of town," said Felix,--lying; "down in Suffolk.

"I have been down in Suffolk," lied Felix.


"They're not going at all;--they're gone," said Dolly.

"They're not going at all; they're gone," said Dolly.


"Everything is smashed," said Nidderdale.


"We shall all have to pay, I don't know how much."


I don't know that there has ever been much idea of catching Vossner.


We close altogether next Monday, and the furniture is to be gone to law for.


Flatfleece says it belongs to him under what he calls a deed of sale.

Flatfleece says the furniture belongs to him under what he calls a deed of sale.


Indeed, everything that everybody has seems to belong to Flatfleece.

Indeed, everything seems to belong to Flatfleece.


He's always in and out of the club, and has got the key of the cellar."


"That don't matter," said Nidderdale, "as Vossner took care that there shouldn't be any wine."


"He's got most of the forks and spoons, and only lets us use what we have as a favour."


"Yes; to-day you can, and perhaps to-morrow."

"Yes; today you can, and perhaps tomorrow."


"I haven't seen a card this fortnight," said Dolly.


There has been the affair of Melmotte, you know;--though, I suppose, you do know all about that."
"Of course I know he poisoned himself."
"Of course that had effect," said Dolly, continuing his history. "Though why fellows shouldn't play cards because another fellow like that takes poison, I can't understand.

There has been the affair of Melmotte, you know; though why fellows shouldn't play cards because another fellow takes poison, I can't understand."


Last year the only day I managed to get down in February, the hounds didn't come because some old cove had died.


What harm could our hunting have done him?


"Melmotte's death was rather awful," said Nidderdale.


"Not half so awful as having nothing to amuse one.


And now they say the girl is going to be married to Fisker."


I don't know how you and Nidderdale like that.


"She's welcome for me, and I dare say she couldn't do better with herself.


I was very fond of her;--I'll be shot if I wasn't."


"And Carbury too, I suppose," said Dolly.


If I'd really been fond of her I suppose it would have come off. I should have had her safe enough to America, if I'd cared about it." This was Sir Felix's view of the matter.

If I'd really been fond of her I should have had her safe to America," said Sir Felix.


"Come into the smoking-room, Dolly," said Nidderdale.


"I can stand most things, and I try to stand everything; but, by George, that fellow is such a cad that I cannot stand him.

"I can stand most things, but, by George, that fellow is such a cad that I cannot stand him.


You and I are bad enough,--but I don't think we're so heartless as Carbury."

You and I are bad enough, but I don't think we're so heartless as Carbury."


"I don't think I'm heartless at all," said Dolly.


"I'm good-natured to everybody that is good-natured to me,--and to a great many people who ain't.

"I'm good-natured to everybody that is good-natured to me.


I'm going all the way down to Caversham next week to see my sister married, though I hate the place and hate marriages, and if I was to be hung for it I couldn't say a word to the fellow who is going to be my brother-in-law.


It's very hard to be good-natured to him."


But, in the teeth of these adverse opinions Sir Felix managed to get his dinner-table close to theirs and to tell them at dinner something of his future prospects.

Even so, Sir Felix managed to get his dinner-table close to theirs and to tell them something of his future prospects.


He was going to travel and see the world.


He had, according to his own account, completely run through London life and found that it was all barren.

He had, according to his own account, completely run through London life and found it barren.


"In life I've rung all changes through, Run every pleasure down, 'Midst each excess of folly too, And lived with half the town."


Sir Felix did not exactly quote the old song, probably having never heard the words.


But that was the burden of his present story.


It was his determination to seek new scenes, and in search of them to travel over the greater part of the known world.


I've got a travelling companion;--a very pleasant fellow, who knows a lot, and will be able to coach me up in things.

I've got a travelling companion; a very pleasant fellow, who knows a lot, and will be able to coach me up in things.


There's a deal to be learned by going abroad, you know."


Well;--yes; I should say that would be nice,--travelling about Europe with a clergyman.

That should be nice - travelling about Europe with a clergyman.


I shouldn't get enough advantage out of it to make it pay, but I fancy it will just suit you."

I shouldn't care for it, but I fancy it will just suit you."


"It's an expensive sort of thing;--isn't it?"

"It's an expensive sort of thing, isn't it?"


But I've got so sick of this kind of life;--and then that railway Board coming to an end, and the club smashing up, and--"


"Marie Melmotte marrying Fisker," suggested Dolly.


But I want a change, and a change I mean to have.


I've seen this side of things, and now I'll have a look at the other."


"Didn't you have a row in the street with some one the other day?"

"Didn't you have a row in the street with someone the other day?"


This question was asked very abruptly by Lord Grasslough, who, though he was sitting near them, had not yet joined in the conversation, and who had not before addressed a word to Sir Felix.

This question was asked very abruptly by Lord Grasslough, who was sitting near them.


"We heard something about it, but we never got the right story."