“Protect you? By Gad I will,” roared the financier, throwing his arm round his wife’s waist, whilst, flushed and angry, she began to sob.
“That man—that wicked man! Oh, it is shameful!”
“Look here, Moorpark,” cried Elbraham savagely, as Clotilde, after gazing furiously at Glen, hid her face upon her husband’s shoulder, “you are a witness. By Gad I’ll have an action against him—I’ll have him in the Divorce Court. I’ll—”
“Hush, hush, my good sir!” whispered Lord Henry, who looked for the moment horror-stricken, but recovered directly sufficiently to close the door leading into the great conservatory.
“But I’ll—but I’ll—” cried Elbraham, foaming at the mouth with rage and jealousy.
“Hush, sir, pray: for your wife and her sister’s sake,” said Lord Henry, with dignity.
“But,” panted Elbraham, struggling to speak, and shaking his fist at Glen, who stood there biting his lip, and frowning.
“Silence, sir!” cried Lord Henry with authority; “recollect you are a gentleman. Captain Glen, I beg and desire that you leave this house at once.”
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed Glen, flushing with excitement; and the words of explanation were upon his lips, but he stopped short and took a step as if to go, but turned back. “Look here, Lord Henry,” he said.
Then he stopped short, choking, sickened with disgust. He could not—he would not speak.