"For God's sake," cried Mr. Hart, almost blind with grief, "don't talk to me about money! I must go and speak to Lucy."
He looked about for his darling, but he could not see her. Indeed, she had left the room with Gerald, and the two were now in the garden, little dreaming of the storm that was gathering. Mr. Weston was somewhat shaken by his friend's agitation, but deemed it prudent not to comment upon it. A diversion occurred, and Mr. Weston gladly seized the opportunity of changing the subject. A tall gentleman, very red in the face and very pompous in his manner, approached them.
"Ah," said Mr. Weston, "Mr. Majendie! Delighted to see you. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Hart."
The gentlemen bowed to each other.
"I intended to be here earlier," said Mr. Majendie, "but there was a benefit at the theatre, and, as my patronage had been obtained, I thought the people would expect to see me."
"No doubt, no doubt," observed Mr. Weston.
"The benefit was for the hospital, and I was compelled to put in an appearance. Not that I approve of such places, but one must make sacrifices."
Here he turned his attention to Mr. Hart, and regarded him with a look of doubt and surprise.
"I beg your pardon; I did not catch this gentleman's name."
"Mr. Hart--one of my oldest friends."