s a
delicate business. You have to consider your wife. Mrs. Warwick's, name
won't come up, but another woman's will.'

'I meet Wroxeter at a gambling-house he frequents, and publicly call him
cheat--slap his face, if need be.'

'Sure to!' repeated Redworth. 'No stupid pretext will quash the woman's
name. Now, such a thing as a duel would give pain enough.'

'Of course; I understand,' Sir Lukin nodded his clear comprehension.
'But what is it you advise, to trounce the scoundrel, and silence him?'

'Leave it to me for a day. Let me have your word that you won't take
a step: positively--neither you nor Colonel Hartswood. I'll see you by
appointment at your Club.' Redworth looked up over the chimneys. 'We 're
going to have a storm and a gale, I can tell you.'

'Gale and storm!' cried Sir Lukin; 'what has that got to do with it?'

'Think of something else for, a time.'

'And that brute of a woman--deuced handsome she is!--if you care for
fair women, Redworth:--she's a Venus, jumped slap out of the waves,
and the Devil for sire--that you learn: running about, sowing her lies.
She's a yellow witch. Oh! but she's a shameless minx. And a black-leg
cur like Wroxeter! Any woman intimate with a fellow like that, stamps
herself. I loathe her. Sort of woman who swears in the morning you're
the only man on earth; and next day--that evening-engaged!--fee to
Polly Hopkins--and it's a gentleman, a nobleman, my lord!--been going on
behind your back half the season!--and she isn't hissed when she
abuses a lady, a saint in comparison! You know the world, old
fellow:--Brighton, Richmond, visits to a friend as deep in the bog.
How Fryar-Gunnett--a man, after all--can stand it! And drives of an
afternoon for an airing-by heaven! You're out of that mess, Redworth:
not much taste for the sex; and you're right, you're lucky. Upon my
word, the corruption of society in the present day is awful; it's
appalling.--I rattled at her: and oh! dear me, perks on her hind heels
and defies me to prove: and she's no pretender, but hopes she's as good
as any of my "chaste Dianas." My dear old friend, it's when you come
upon women of that kind you have a sickener. And I'm bound by the best
there is in a man-honour, gratitude, all the' list--to defend Diana
Warwick.'

'So, you see, for your wife's sake, your name can't be hung on a woman
of that kind,' said Redworth. 'I'll call here the day after to-morrow at
three P.M.'

Sir Lukin descended and vainl