But all their combined rage cannot hinder the course of events. So on the morning of the sale, just as a few curious strangers begin to invade the splendid drawing-rooms, Mrs. Cleveland and her daughter are quietly driven away in a closed carriage.
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
"I shall have to leave London," Lady Vera says, desperately, when rumor has wafted to her ears the story of Leslie Noble's cavalier treatment of Mrs. Cleveland and her daughter. "I am afraid—horribly afraid of that man. His parting threat still rings in my ears."
"You need not be afraid while you are with us," Lady Clive exclaims, vivaciously. "Do you think we would ever let the mean wretch come near you again?"
But Lady Vera, coloring deeply, explains:
"He has other methods of annoying me besides his presence. Already I have received several letters from him, some of a wheedling, persuasive nature, others filled with offensive threats."
Sir Harry looks up from his paper.
"Shall I horsewhip the scoundrel for you, Lady Vera?" he asks, indignantly. "It would give me the greatest pleasure."
She shrinks, sensitively, from this offered championship.