CHAPTER I.
And he had ever on his lip some word of mockery.
MAISTRE WACE.
Therefore whenever that thou dost behold
A comely corse with beauty fair endewed,
Know this for certain, that the same doth hold
A beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed;
Fit to receive the seed of vertue strewed,
For all that fair is, is by nature good;
That is a sign to know the gentle blood.
SPENSER.
"Left guardian to her, are you?" said Mr. Casement, looking with an expression of much satisfaction at his friend Mr. Grey.
"I told you so three months ago," returned Mr. Grey, in a tone of voice that betrayed his vexation.
"I have been very busy for these three months, and forgot all about it," said Mr. Casement.
"I thought you never were busy, Casement," remarked Mr. Grey.
"One of your mistakes," returned Mr. Casement, as if Mr. Grey's mistakes were a synonyme for the dullest of all possible blunders. "Why, you seem to have the luck of it; you are always being made guardian, or executor, or what not."
"I know I am," said Mr. Grey, looking more and more cold, and vexed, and peevish; and rubbing his knee with great perseverance, as he drew closer to the fire; "but never before to a girl."