bout his expectations, and quizzed him about Rosalind.
They laughed at his rustic simplicity, and amused themselves by putting
him to the blush. They plied him with wine and cigars, and rallied him
on his pure demure face. One or two toadies sidled up and professed a
sympathy which was more offensive than the badinage.

He endured all as best he could, for one reason and one only. The
loudest and coarsest of his tormentors was Mr Fastnet.

At last, however, when, not for the first time, Rosalind's name had been
dragged into the conversation, the blood of the Ingletons rose.

The man who had spoken was a young _roue_, little more than Roger's own
age, and reputed to be a great man in the circles of the fast.

"Excuse me," said Roger, abruptly interrupting the laugh that followed
this hero's jest, "do you call yourself a gentleman?"

A bombshell on the floor could hardly have made a greater sensation.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sir, that you're not a gentleman."

The young gentleman staggered back as if he had been shot, and gaped
round the audience, speechless.

"Hullo, hullo," said some one, "this is getting lively."

Another of the party walked to the door and turned the key, and several
others hastily finished up the contents of their glasses.

Roger needed all his nerve to keep cool under the circumstances, but he
succeeded.

All eyes were turned to the young gentleman, whose move it clearly was
next.

He was very red in his face and threatening in his demeanour, but when
it came to giving his feelings utterance his courage dwindled down into
a--

"Bah! sanctimonious young prig!"

The astonishment was now transferred to the onlookers.

"Hullo, Compton, I say," said Fastnet, "did you hear what he called you?
Is that all you've got to say?"

The Honourable Mr Compton's face gradually bleached, as he looked from
one to the other.

"He said you were no gentleman," repeated Fastnet, determined there
should be no mistake about the matter. "Isn't that so, youngster?"
appealing to Roger.

"That is what I said," said Roger.

The lily-livered hero was hanging out his true colours at last.

"It's lucky for him," snarled he, "he is only a visitor in this house."

Fastnet and one or two of the others laughed disagreeably.

"Ingleton," said the former, taking control of the proceedings
generally, "are you willing to repeat what you said outside?"

"Certainly," said Roger; "anywhere you like.