"I feel convinced that she will offer no objection," answered Greenwood. "It is true that every slave becomes free when once the foot touches the soil of this country, as I once observed to the independent electors of Rottenborough;—but I am sure that she will wear the gold chain that I shall be delighted to throw around her."
"Well spoken, Greenwood!" cried the Marquis. "Send the bay to my stables in the morning; and fetch away the Georgian when you choose."
"Greenwood's the man for business," observed Lord Dunstable. "By the by, how did the African Railroad scheme turn out?"
"Oh! admirably," replied the capitalist. "I cleared my ten thousand by it: so did the Marquis."
"But I lotht thwee thouthand, though—and a pwethiouth wage I wath in," said Sir Cherry.
"Because you kept your shares too long, my dear fellow," remarked Greenwood coolly. "No, my good woman—I have nothing for you!"
These last words were uttered, in a loud tone, and accompanied by a stern shake of the head, to a poor, ragged, shivering creature, who had paused on the pavement outside to solicit alms from the aristocrats assembled at the window.
The miserable woman cast one glance of ineffable anguish on Mr. Greenwood, and then hurried away, overwhelmed by the savage determination of his refusal.
"That poor wretch has been good-looking in her time," said Mr. Smicksmack. "Although it is nearly dark, I caught sight of her countenance by the light of the lamp."
"And so did I," whispered Lord Dunstable to Colonel Cholmondeley, whom he drew aside. "Do you know who that was?" he asked in a low and somewhat hoarse tone.