“I do not wish you to quarrel!” she said piteously.
“My dear, you are being absurd!” he said. “I might give Charlie a trimming, but I do not intend to come to pistols with him!”
“ You would not, I know, but he—!”
“No, no!” he said. “He is not such a fool!” She was obliged to be satisfied, and he took his leave of her, promising to visit her immediately upon his return to Bath.
When he reached the Christopher again, he found his chaise waiting for him. He determined to drive first to Lord Gaywood’s lodging in Green Street, to learn what he might there, but as he had no expectation of finding Belinda there, and believed it to be possible that he might have a long drive before him, he went first into the hotel to provide himself with an overcoat. He ran up the stairs, and was brought up short on the landing by the sight of Tom, coming out of his parlour. “Good God! What are you doing in Bath, Tom?” he demanded, misgiving in his heart.
“Oh, sir, I thought you was never coming!” Tom cried, grasping his hand with painful enthusiasm. “I have been waiting for you this age, and that fusty old Nettlebed would not tell me where you was gone to! It is such a lark, and I know you will be pleased with me this time!”
“But what are you doing here? No, never mind! I can’t stay now, Tom. You shall tell me about it another day.”
“No, no, you don’t understand, sir! Oh, do come into the parlour! I must tell you!”
He exerted all his lusty strength to tug the Duke to the parlour. He was plainly in a state of considerable excitement, and big with portentous tidings,
“Well, be quick, then, for I have an important engagement out of town!” said the Duke. “Does your papa know you are here?”