d Isobel a
young serpent, at which she laughed loudly, and bore off Sims to be
buried in the vault with the Plantagenet lady at Monk's Acre.

Godfrey woke up shaking with fear, wet with perspiration, and reflected
earnestly on his latter end, which seemed to be at hand. If that great,
burly, raucous-voiced Sims had died so suddenly, why should not he,
Godfrey?

He wondered where Sims had gone to, and what he was doing now.
Explaining the matter of the half-sovereign to St. Peter, perhaps, and
hoping humbly that it and others would be overlooked, "since after all
he had done the right thing by the young gent."

Poor Sims, he was sorry for him, but it might have been worse. _He_
might have been in the cab himself and now be offering explanations of
his own as to a wild desire to kill that knight in armour, and Isobel
as well. Oh! what a fool he had been. What business was it of his if
Isobel chose to give roses to some friend of hers at a dance? She was
not his property, but only a girl with whom he chanced to have been
brought up, and who found him a pleasant companion when there was no
one else at hand.

By nature, as has been recorded, Godfrey was intensely proud, and then
and there he made a resolution that he would have nothing more to do
with Isobel. Never again would he hang about the skirts of that fine
and rich young lady, who on the night that he was going away could give
roses to another man, just because he was a lord and good-looking--yes,
and kiss them too. His father was quite right about women, and he would
take his advice to the letter, and begin to study Proverbs forthwith,
especially the marked passages.

Having come to this conclusion, and thus eased his troubled mind, he
went to sleep in good earnest, for he was very tired. The next thing of
which he became aware was that someone was hammering at the door, and
calling out that a lady downstairs said he must get up at once if he
meant to be in time. He looked at his watch, a seven-and-sixpenny
article that he had been given off a Christmas tree at Hawk's Hall, and
observed, with horror, that he had just ten minutes in which to dress,
pack, and catch the train. Somehow he did it, for fortunately his bill
had been paid. Always in after days a tumultuous vision remained in his
mind of himself, a long, lank youth with unbrushed hair and unbuttoned
waistcoat, carrying a bag and a coat, followed by an hotel porter with
his luggage, rushing wildly down