"My dear fellow, I mean exactly what I say; you're under a mistake, while all the time it's all right for you!"
"What's all right for me--with whom--where?"
"There!" said Tommy Toshington, wagging his new wig and his curly-brimmed hat in the direction where Lord Ticehurst was sitting; "his lordship is entêté with a certain warbler, eh? Fourth finger of the left hand--death do us part, and all that sort of thing, eh? That wouldn't suit your book, I should think--have to give up your rooms; she persuade him to cut the turf, go to church, and that kind of thing. Don't you be afraid, my boy; I know the world better than you, and that'll never come off!"
"You think not?" asked Gilbert.
"I'm sure not," replied Tommy. "Look here; he'd like it fast enough. Etchingham would marry her to-morrow if he got the chance; but she's full of pluck and spirit, and don't care a bit for him. How do I know? Because she cares for somebody else. How do I know that? My dear fellow, don't I know everything? What used the old Dook to say, 'Ask Toshington, he'll know; he knows everything, Tommy does.' And he didn't make many mistakes, the old Dook."
"Perhaps you know who is the 'somebody' else for whom the lady cares?" said Gilbert, an evil light dawning in his face, and his lips involuntarily tightening as he put the question.
"Of course I do!" said Tommy, with a crisp little laugh; "keep my eyes open, see everything; seen 'em together lots of times--Carabas House, Lady Lowndes', and lots of places. You know him, I should think; tall man from Gloucestershire--big beard--Chaldecott--some name like that!"
This time the oath broke from Lloyd's lips unchecked. He turned rapidly on his heel, and strode away.
"Dev'lish ill-bred young man that," said old Toshington, looking afte him; "dammy, there's no manners left in the men of the present day!"