"The ladies—ah!" and Dacres's eyes lighted up with a bad, hard light. "I suppose he's another of those precious cavaliers—the scum of all lands—that dance attendance on my charming wife."
"Oh, see here now, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "none of that, you know. This fellow is a friend of mine, and one of the best fellows I ever saw. You'd like him, old chap. He'd suit you."
"Yes, and suit my wife better," said Dacres, bitterly.
"Oh, come now, really, my dear boy, you're completely out. He don't know your wife at all. It's the other one, you know. Don't be jealous, now, if I tell you."
"Jealous!"
"Yes. I know your weakness, you know; but this is an old affair. I don't want to violate confidence, but—"
Dacres looked hard at his friend and breathed heavily. He was evidently much excited.
"But what?" he said, hoarsely.
"Well, you know, it's an old affair. It's the young one, you know—Miss Fay. He rather affects her, you know. That's about it."
"Miss Fay?"