"Nothing, Benjamin, nothing. I like you very well. You are a beautiful
mystery. Pleasant dreams."

The hapless Benjamin howled after him long and loud. Thereby Harry, who
had a musical ear, was spurred to his best pace. "It's a vile voice," he
reflected; "like Lady Waverton's. The marmoreal Alison was right. He
would be better hanged. But so also would Lady Waverton. She will
acridly want to know why I am late. Well! It will be a melancholy
satisfaction not to tell her. That will also annoy Geoffrey, who'll
magnificently indicate that I owe him an apology. The poor Geoffrey! He
is so fond of himself!"

His evening was as pleasant as he had anticipated. He won two shillings
from Lady Waverton at ombre, which made her angry; and lost them to
Geoffrey, which made him melancholy. For Mr. Waverton loved (in small
things) to be a martyr.




CHAPTER II

THE HOUSE OF WAVERTON


Mr. Waverton had an idea in his head. That was not the least unusual. It
was, unhappily, a wrong one. That was not unusual either. We must have a
trifle of Latin. Mr. Waverton, studying Horace, desired to translate,
_Civium ardor prava jubentium_ "the wicked ardour of the overbearing