nd to be insulted by more than one
person.

With this imperfect preparation of a war policy, Lush was awaiting
Grandcourt's arrival, doing little more than wondering how the campaign
would begin. The first day Grandcourt was much occupied with the
stables, and amongst other things he ordered a groom to put a
side-saddle on Criterion and let him review the horse's paces. This
marked indication of purpose set Lush on considering over again whether
he should incur the ticklish consequences of speaking first, while he
was still sure that no compromising step had been taken; and he rose
the next morning almost resolved that if Grandcourt seemed in as good a
humor as yesterday and entered at all into talk, he would let drop the
interesting facts about Gwendolen and her family, just to see how they
would work, and to get some guidance. But Grandcourt did not enter into
talk, and in answer to a question even about his own convenience, no
fish could have maintained a more unwinking silence. After he had read
his letters he gave various orders to be executed or transmitted by
Lush, and then thrust his shoulder toward that useful person, who
accordingly rose to leave the room. But before he was out of the door
Grandcourt turned his head slightly and gave a broken, languid "Oh."

"What is it?" said Lush, who, it must have been observed, did not take
his dusty puddings with a respectful air.

"Shut the door, will you? I can't speak into the corridor."

Lush closed the door, came forward, and chose to sit down.

After a little pause Grandcourt said, "Is Miss Harleth at Offendene?"
He was quite certain that Lush had made it his business to inquire
about her, and he had some pleasure in thinking that Lush did not want
_him_ to inquire.

"Well, I hardly know," said Lush, carelessly. "The family's utterly
done up. They and the Gascoignes too have lost all their money. It's
owing to some rascally banking business. The poor mother hasn't a
_sou_, it seems. She and the girls have to huddle themselves into a
little cottage like a laborer's."

"Don't lie to me, if you please," said Grandcourt, in his lowest
audible tone. "It's not amusing, and it answers no other purpose."

"What do you mean?" said Lush, more nettled than was common with
him--the prospect before him being more than commonly disturbing.

"Just tell me the truth, will you?"

"It's no invention of mine. I have heard the story from
several--Bazley, Brackenshaw's man,