"Come home with us, George," said Sir Philip eagerly. "Do, there's a good fellow!"
"I can't, Phil!" answered Lorimer, almost pathetically. "I can't to-night--indeed, I can't! Don't ask me!" And he wrung his friend's hand hard,--and then bravely met Thelma's bright glance.
"Forgive me!" he said to her. "I know I ought to have presented myself before--I'm a dreadfully lazy fellow, you know! Good-night!"
Thelma regarded him steadfastly.
"You look,--what is it you call yourself sometimes--seedy?" she observed. "Not well at all. Mind you come to us to-morrow!"
He promised--and then accompanied them down to their carriage--he and Beau Lovelace assisting to cover Thelma with her fur cloak, and being the last to shake hands with Sir Philip as he sprang in beside his wife, and called to the coachman "Home!" The magic word seemed to effect the horses, for they started at a brisk trot, and within a couple of minutes the carriage was out of sight. It was a warm star-lit evening,--and as Lorimer and Lovelace re-entered Winsleigh House, Beau stole a side-glance at his silent companion.
"A plucky fellow!" he mused; "I should say he'd die game. Tortures won't wring his secret out of him." Aloud he said, "I say, haven't we had enough of this? Don't let us sup here--nothing but unsubstantial pastry and claretcup--the latter abominable mixture would kill me. Come on to the Club, will you?"
Lorimer gladly assented--they got their over-coats from the officious Briggs, tipped him handsomely, and departed arm in arm. The last glimpse they caught of the Winsleigh festivities was Marcia Van Clupp sitting on the stairs, polishing off with much gusto the wing and half-breast of a capon,--while the mild Lord Masherville stood on the step just above her, consoling his appetite with a spoonful of tepid yellow jelly. He had not been able to secure any capon for himself--he had been frightened away by the warning cry of "Ladies first!" shouted forth by a fat gentleman, who was on guard at the head of the supper-table, and who had already secreted five plates of different edibles for his own consumption, in a neat corner behind the window-curtains. Meanwhile, Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, proud, happy, and triumphant, drew his wife into a close embrace as they drove home together, and said, "You were the queen of the evening, my Thelma! Have you enjoyed yourself?"
"Oh, I do not call that enjoyment!" she declared. "How is it possible to enjoy anything among so many strangers?"