"One person! and who is that?"
"A friend of hers,--Prince Tchernigow."
"Damnation!" screamed Mitford; "is he here? That cursed Russian with his sallow face has always been hanging about her; and is he here now?"
"O yes, he's here now; has been here for the last month, and has seen her twice every day since she arrived. I happen to know that," said Mr. Aldermaston, "from private sources of information."
"He has, has he? Curse him!" said Mitford, white with rage.
"O yes, he has; and curse him if you like to me," said Mr. Aldermaston. "He's no friend of mine; and if he were, I don't know that I've any right to object because a gentleman curses him. But I don't think I'd curse him too strongly to Mrs. Hammond when you see her."
"Why not?"
"Well, simply because he's going to be married to her to-morrow morning."
"To be married to her! You lie, sir!--you lie!"
"I say, look here, Mr.--Sir Charles Mitford; there is a point which must not be passed;--thus far shalt thou go, you know, and that sort of thing;--and you must not tell a gentleman he lies--'pon my soul you mustn't!"