disappointment, you
Fenchurch Street fire-eater. Come away. It will be but proper, you know,
for a bridegroom elect to go and ask news of la charmante Miss Clara."

"As we went out of the house," Lord Kew told Clive, "I said to Barnes
that every word I had uttered upstairs with regard to the reconciliation
was a lie. That Jack Belsize was determined to have his blood, and was
walking under the lime-trees by which we had to pass with a thundering
big stick. You should have seen the state the fellow was in, sir. The
sweet youth started back, and turned as yellow as a cream cheese.
Then he made a pretext to go into his room, and said it was for his
pocket-handkerchief, but I know it was for a pistol; for he dropped his
hand from my arm into his pocket, every time I said 'Here's Jack,' as we
walked down the avenue to Lord Dorking's apartment."

A great deal of animated business had been transacted during the two
hours subsequent to poor Lady Clara's mishap. Clive and Belsize had
returned to the former's quarters, while gentle J. J. was utilising
the last rays of the sun to tint a sketch which he had made during
the morning. He fled to his own apartment on the arrival of the
fierce-looking stranger, whose glaring eyes, pallid looks, shaggy beard,
clutched hands, and incessant gasps and mutterings as he strode up and
down, might well scare a peaceable person. Very terrible must Jack
have looked as he trampled those boards in the growing twilight,
anon stopping to drink another tumbler of champagne, then groaning
expressions of inarticulate wrath, and again sinking down on Clive's
bed with a dropping head and breaking voice, crying, "Poor little thing,
poor little devil."

"If the old man sends me a message, you will stand by me, won't you,
Newcome? He was a fierce old fellow in his time, and I have seen him
shoot straight enough at Chanticlere. I suppose you know what the affair
is about?"

"I never heard of it before, but I think I understand," says Clive,
gravely.

"I can't ask Kew, he is one of the family; he is going to marry Miss
Newcome. It is no use asking him."

All Clive's blood tingled at the idea that any man was going to marry
Miss Newcome. He knew it before--a fortnight since, and it was nothing
to him to hear it. He was glad that the growing darkness prevented his
face from being seen. "I am of the family, too," said Clive, "and Barnes
Newcome and I had the same grandfather."

"Oh, yes, old boy--old ba