'Don't mention the poor girl's name; it's too bad to make a joke of that
part of the business; she has behaved nobly under shameful provocation;
there is but one excuse for Montbarry--he is either a madman or a fool.'
In these terms the protest expressed itself on all sides.
Speaking confidentially to his next neighbour, the Doctor
discovered that the lady referred to was already known to him
(through the Countess's confession) as the lady deserted by
Lord Montbarry. Her name was Agnes Lockwood. She was described
as being the superior of the Countess in personal attraction,
and as being also by some years the younger woman of the two.
Making all allowance for the follies that men committed every day
in their relations with women, Montbarry's delusion was still
the most monstrous delusion on record. In this expression
of opinion every man present agreed--the lawyer even included.
Not one of them could call to mind the innumerable instances in
which the sexual influence has proved irresistible in the persons
of women without even the pretension to beauty. The very members
of the club whom the Countess (in spite of her personal disadvantages)
could have most easily fascinated, if she had thought it worth her while,
were the members who wondered most loudly at Montbarry's choice of
a wife.

While the topic of the Countess's marriage was still the one topic
of conversation, a member of the club entered the smoking-room
whose appearance instantly produced a dead silence.
Doctor Wybrow's next neighbour whispered to him, 'Montbarry's brother--
Henry Westwick!'

The new-comer looked round him slowly, with a bitter smile.