She faced the parting bravely, and he was proud of her. There was no scene such as he had been accustomed to with others; she smiled at him, and waved as the train moved out. Only when she got home to the hotel, she went to her room and burst into a passionate flood of tears.
Reckavile found all London talking about the case. The worthy draper had filed his petition, and only awaited his turn to come to the courts. Winnie he would not see, and rumour gathered round the action Reckavile would take. Betting was about even on his marrying the woman or killing the draper.
Those who knew him were certain he would face the music.
He paid two visits, one to his family lawyer to enter a defence, and one to an intimate friend, Captain Wynter. He found the latter at the Club, and with his usual abruptness opened at once.
“You’ve heard of this silly business about the man Wheatland, eh?” Wynter nodded.
“Well, I want you to take a challenge to him. Tell him I’ll fight him for the lady.”
“My dear fellow,” said the other, dropping his eyeglass in his astonishment, “are you joking? That sort of thing is quite out of date, unfortunately, otherwise one would not have to put up with the insults one meets with nowadays.”
“I mean it quite seriously, I am in a devil of a mess, and if he can plug me, all the better. It will end the line, and everyone will be satisfied.”
Wynter looked at him, and realised he was serious, and in a dangerous mood. It would be best to pacify him, and rather a joke to frighten the draper; perhaps even it might stay proceedings.
He drew up the challenge with all the formality of a century ago, and showed it to Reckavile, who gravely agreed, without apparently seeing any humour in the situation.