As though they feared the light."
The quotation is somewhat hackneyed, perhaps; but it ran through Reginald Haggard's mind, as he prodded his stick into the gravel.
"I'm afraid, Miss Warrender, that I have betrayed you into a tête-à-tête. Your father wished me luck, and told me I should find you here, while your cousin informed me that we should be quite undisturbed. May I hope that you will give me a chance; that possibly, after a time, I may not altogether be indifferent to you, Georgie?" Again the rosy flush mantled on the girl's tell-tale cheek. Haggard continued, "Of course you have seen, dear Georgie, that I have been very hard hit this season, for a lazy ne'er-do-weel like myself to dance attendance at every entertainment that Miss Warrender graced with her presence, must have made the state of my affections pretty manifest I suppose. We have known each other a long time. I have never done anything mean or dirty that I know of, Georgie. Of course I was a young fool, and kicked up my heels as young fools do. But I think I have had all the nonsense knocked out of me. My roving life in Mexico and my chase after the almighty dollar have sobered me. Can you trust me, Georgie? I'll be good to you, upon my word I will. Good to you and proud of you, if you'll only give me the chance. You are too clever for me to attempt to argue you into it. But, dear Georgie, I love you as I never loved any woman breathing, and not with the mere passing fancy of a boy. I have seen the world and a good deal of life, the gilded and the seamy sides. Tell me, Georgie. May I hope? Will you give me a chance?"
Georgie looked into his eyes and smiled. He had spoken it trippingly on the tongue, though seemingly spontaneous, it had been well thought out; for Haggard was an actor, a leading gentleman, well experienced in lovers' rôles. It is not meant by this that Haggard was what the old song calls a "star-breasted villain." But Georgie Warrender was not by any means his first love. Haggard looked upon Georgie as a valuable acquisition; from the physical point of view she was the finest, freshest, fairest girl he had come across. And he coveted her as an amateur covets a picture; that it may belong to him, and that others may fruitlessly desire his pearl of great price. True, no sordid consideration influenced Haggard. Can we call this love? Let us be charitable and do so. But we will also be just and qualify. It was love of the nineteenth century, of the society type.
"You pay me a great compliment, Mr. Haggard, a very undeserved compliment. I cannot pretend to be taken by surprise, for, as you say, your attentions have been very marked. What am I to say to you? With a girl it is a very serious matter; for once we give our hearts, at least some of us, Mr. Haggard, we give them for good and all. A mistake once made, in our case, cannot be set right. Our affections once given away to a man, and perhaps afterwards flung aside, then leave us with nothing to bestow but our miserable selves. Are you quite sure you have made up your mind, and that you won't want to change it?" she said, looking up archly in his face.
But his teeth were set, and the muscles of his massive jaw were working hard, as he gazed intently on the gravel at his feet. It was evidently no laughing matter with Haggard. The muscles of his jaw had worked in a similar way only a week ago, when he stood on the grand stand at Epsom, and saw the favourite, whom he had backed heavily, almost "collared" on the post; but the favourite had won, and Dark Despair had failed to land the odds of sixty to one laid against him. So had the muscles of Reginald Haggard's jaw worked when he had "bluffed" Don Emmanuel Garcia at the almost historical game of poker, which they had played at Chihuahua. Haggard had only held knave high, about as small a hand as a poker player can hold; he had successfully "bluffed" the Mexican, and won. He is bluffing now, for hearts are trumps at the game that is being played; and we, who look over the cards of both hands, can see that big Reginald's at least is a poor one. Will he win? Of course he will. What chance has Georgie Warrender against so experienced a player? The stakes were Haggard's before he had cut or shuffled the cards.
"Sure, Georgie? of course I'm sure. I may hope, then? I may dare to hope?"
Wise man as he was, he carried the place by a determined rush. He took her hand in his, the taper little fingers were not withdrawn.
"Georgie, darling, how can I thank you? I am not good at this sort of thing."
If he had not attained perfection in the art of love, it was certainly not for want of practice; for if the truth be told, the big Lothario habitually made love to every pretty woman he met; and if there was no pretty woman, then to the least unprepossessing one of those present. The rest of the conversation went on much as such conversations usually do. Haggard swore eternal constancy. Georgie confessed that she "supposed she did care for him." But this modified sympathy did not satisfy Haggard; he pleaded for something more explicit.