truth suppose it would have injured me; but I would not run one
unnecessary risk.'

Lord Romfrey sighed profoundly. He could not shake her off. How could
he refuse her?

How on earth had it come about that suddenly he was expected to be the
person to go?

She would not let him elude her; and her stained cheeks and her trembling
on his arm pleaded most pressingly and masteringly. It might be that she
spoke with a knowledge of her case. Positive it undoubtedly was that she
meant to go if he did not. Perhaps the hopes of his House hung on it.
Having admitted that a wrong had been done, he was not the man to leave
it unamended; only he would have chosen his time, and the manner. Since
Nevil's illness, too, he had once or twice been clouded with a little bit
of regret at the recollection of poor innocent old Shrapnel posted like a
figure of total inebriation beside the doorway of the dreadful sickroom.

There had been women of the earl's illustrious House who would have given
their hands to the axe rather than conceal a stain and have to dread a
scandal. His Rosamund, after all, was of their pattern; even though she
blew that conscience she prattled of into trifles, and swelled them, as
women of high birth in this country, out of the clutches of the priests,
do not do.

She clung to him for his promise to go.

He said: 'Well, well.'