who, could really outwit and outdo me,--me,--Francis Borodaile! No,
no: I must throw the insult upon him, must myself be the aggressor and
the challenged; then, too, I shall have the choice of weapons,--
pistols of course. Where shall I hit him, by the by? I wish I shot
as well as I used to do at Naples. I was in full practice then.
Cursed place, where there was nothing else to do but to practise!"

Immersed in these or somewhat similar reflections did Lord Borodaile
enter Pall Mall.

"Ah, Borodaile!" said Lord St. George, suddenly emerging from a shop.
"This is really fortunate: you are going my way exactly; allow me to
join you."

Now Lord Borodaile, to say nothing of his happening at that time to be
in a mood more than usually unsocial, could never at any time bear the
thought of being made an instrument of convenience, pleasure, or good
fortune to another. He therefore, with a little resentment at Lord
St. George's familiarity, coldly replied, "I am sorry that I cannot
avail myself of your offer. I am sure my way is not the same as
yours."

"Then," replied Lord St. George, who was a good-natured, indolent man,
who imagined everybody was as averse to walking alone as he was, "then
I will make mine the same as yours."

Borodaile coloured: though always uncivil, he did not like to be
excelled in good manners; and therefore replied, that nothing but
extreme business at White's could have induced him to prefer his own
way to that of Lord St. George.