“He was a charmant garçon,” said the old man, with another smile; “and will be an acquisition to any society he enters.”
To the first provocative to laughter this mistake excited, there quickly succeeded a far sadder, darker sentiment, and Lady Vyner arose, and the party retired to the drawing-room.
“I think our dining-room was most uncomfortably warm to-day, Sir Within,” said Georgina; “come and see if this little salon here with the open window is not very refreshing after it.” And Sir Within bowed and followed her.
“What do you call that, Sir?” whispered M’Kinlay to Grenfell, as they stood taking their coffee at a window. “He has just turned the corner; he has been so long loitering about. The head is gone now, and, I suppose, gone for ever.”
“My position,” whispered M’Kinlay again, “is a very painful one; he sent to me this morning about a codicil he wants executed.”
“Does he intend to make me his heir?” asked the other, laughing. “I opine not, Sir. It is of that girl—Miss Luttrell, they pretend to call her now—he was thinking; but really he is not in that state the law requires.”
“The disposing mind—-eh?”
“Just so, Sir. I could not bring myself to face a cross-examination on the subject.”
“Very proper on your part; proper and prudent, both.” “You see, Sir, the very servants noticed the way he was in to-day. Harris actually passed him twice without giving him Hock; he saw his state.”
“Cruel condition, when the very flunkeys feel for one!” “I thought at the time what evidence Harris would give—I did, indeed, Sir. No solicitor of rank in the profession could lend himself to such a proceeding.”