might
be in Mr. Boltby's private room. When Cousin George objected that he
did not choose to have any interview with Sir Harry in presence of
the lawyer, the clerk very humbly explained that the private room
would be exclusively for the service of the two gentlemen. Sick as he
was, Cousin George knew that nothing was to be gained by quarrelling
with Sir Harry. Though Sir Harry should ask for an interview in
presence of the Lord Mayor, he must go to it. He made the hour as
late as he could, and at last three o'clock was settled.

At one, Cousin George was at work upon his broiled bones and tea
laced with brandy, having begun his meal with soda and brandy. He was
altogether dissatisfied with himself. Had he known on the preceding
evening what was coming, he would have dined on a mutton chop and a
pint of sherry, and have gone to bed at ten o'clock. He looked at
himself in the glass, and saw that he was bloated and red,--and a
thing foul to behold. It was a matter of boast to him,--the most
pernicious boast that ever a man made,--that in twenty-four hours
he could rid himself of all outward and inward sign of any special
dissipation; but the twenty-four hours were needed, and now not
twelve were allowed him. Nevertheless, he kept his appointment. He
tried to invent some lie which he might send by a commissioner, and
which might not ruin him. But he thought upon the whole that it would
be safer for him to go.

When he entered the room he saw at a glance that there was to be
war,--war to the knife,--between him and Sir Harry. He perceived at
once that if it were worth his while to go on with the thing at all,
he must do so in sole dependence on the spirit and love of Emily
Hotspur. Sir Harry at their first greeting declined to shake hands
with him, and called him Captain Hotspur.

"Captain Hotspur," he said, "in a word, understand that there must be
no further question of a marriage between you and my daughter."

"Why not, Sir Harry?"

"Because, sir--" and then he paused--"I would sooner see my girl dead
at my feet than entrust her to such a one as you. It was true what
you said to me at Humblethwaite. There would have been something
very alluring to me in the idea of joining the property and the
title together. A man will pay much for such a whim. I would not
unwillingly have paid very much in money; but I am not so infamously
wicked as to sacrifice my daughter utterly by giving her to one so
utterly unworthy of her