'No. But I know what any other man would have been to her. You ought to have told her.'
'To-morrow morning,' said Charles. 'I'll go.'
He turned away and basked in the smiles and congratulations of the Bracebridge-Butcher set.
Verschoyle returned to Rodd,—
'That's all right,' he said. 'I was afraid that with this success he'd want to stick it out. These idealists are so infernally self-righteous.'
Lady Butcher returned with Clara, looking very pale and slender in a little black silk frock. Sir Henry came up to her at once and took possession of her. He whispered in her ear,—
'Did you get my flowers?'
'Yes.'
'And my note?'
'Yes.'