All these steps had been taken, with a view to carrying on the cheat.
And the cabriolet had been chosen for a special purpose. It was the style of vehicle in vogue among distinguished swells—notably young noblemen. They were not often seen upon the streets; and when seen attracting attention, as they should—being the handsomest thing upon heels.
During one of her moments of enthusiasm, he had heard Julia Girdwood say she should like to have a ride in one of them. He was just the man to drive her: for while a guardsman he had often handled the ribbons of a drag; and was esteemed one of the best “whips” of his time.
If he could only coax Julia Girdwood into his cabriolet—of course also her mother to permit it—what an advantage it would give, him! An exhibition of his skill; the opportunity of a tête-à-tête unrestrained—a chance he had not yet had; these, with other contingencies, might tend to advance him in her estimation.
It was a delicate proposal to make. It would have been a daring one, but for the speech he had heard suggesting it. On the strength of this he could introduce the subject, without fear of offending.
She might go. He knew she was a young lady fond of peculiar experiences, and not afraid of social criticism. She had never submitted to its tyranny. In this she was truly American.
He believed she would go, or consent to it; and it would be simply a question of permission from the mother.
And after their last friendly interview, he believed that Mrs Girdwood would give it.
Backed by such belief there could be no harm in trying; and for this the cabriolet had been chartered.
Buoyant of hope, Mr Swinton sprang out of the vehicle, tossed the reins to his tiger, and stepped over the threshold of the Clarendon.