“Possibly,” said Richard, in the same low, husky voice.
“Dick, old fellow, I don’t think you’ve done quite right in giving up all,” said Pratt. “You had some one else to think of besides yourself.”
“For Heaven’s sake, don’t talk to me now,” said Richard, hoarsely. “The task is getting harder than I thought; but if that fellow dares—Oh, it’s absurd!”
He stood for a few moments with his fists clenched, and the thoughts of Vanleigh’s dark, handsome face, and his visit to the little Pentonville street, seemed to run in a confused way through his brain, till he forced them aside, and, with assumed composure, filled his glass, and tossed it off at a draught.
He was proceeding to repeat it, when Pratt laid a hand upon his arm.
“Don’t do that, old fellow,” he said, quietly. “If there’s work to be done, it’s the cool head that does it; drink’s only the spur, and the spurred beast soonest flags. Let you and me talk it over. Two heads are better than one, and that one only Van’s. Dick, old fellow, what are you going to do?”
Lady Rea’s State of Mind.
Frank Pratt was quite right, the Rea family were in town; and thanks to Aunt Matilda, who had sent to Captain Vanleigh a notification of all that had taken place, that gentleman and his companion had resumed their visits; and had, in the course of a few days, become quite at home.
Lady Rea had felt disposed to rebel at first, but Vanleigh completely disarmed the little lady by his frank behaviour.