"Oh, now, how wrong."
"Wrong, sir?"
"Yes, surely. If anything more than another tends to harmonize individuals, it is the society of that fairer half of the creation which we love for their very foibles. I am much attached to the softer sex—to young persons full of health. I like to see the rosy checks, where the warm blood mantles in the superficial veins, and all is loveliness and life."
Charles shrank back, and the word "Demon" unconsciously escaped his lips.
Sir Francis took no manner of notice of the expression, but went on talking, as if he had been on the very happiest terms with every one present.
"Will you follow me, at once, to the chamber where the portrait hangs," said Henry, "or will you partake of some refreshment first?"
"No refreshment for me," said Varney. "My dear friend, if you will permit me to call you such, this is a time of the day at which I never do take any refreshment."
"Nor at any other," thought Henry.
They all went to the chamber where Charles had passed one very disagreeable night, and when they arrived, Henry pointed to the portrait on the panel, saying—
"There, Sir Francis Varney, is your likeness."