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Dyceworthy, who know how to choose their wines so well?" Mr. Dyceworthy smiled with a dubious air. "There is one other household that in the matter of choice liquids is almost profanely particular," he said. "But they are people who are ejected with good reason from respectable society, and, it behooves me not to speak of their names."
"I disagree with ye," interposed Macfarlane "I think Errington should hear what we ha' heard; it's fair an' just to a mon that he should understand what sort o' folk are gaun to pairtake wi' him at his table. Ye see, Errington, ye should ha' thought a wee, before inviting pairsons o' unsettled an' dootful chairacter " "Who says they are?" demanded Errington half-angrily. "The drunken Dyceworthy?"
Recovering himself slowly, he looked about him in a bewildered way, and for the first time noticed the vacant, solitary appearance of the Fjord. Some object was missing; he realized what it was immediately the English yacht Eulalie was gone from her point of anchorage. "Dear me!" said Mr. Dyceworthy, half aloud, "what a very sudden departure!
The two terms are by no means synonymous. I know nothing of Mr. Dyceworthy beyond that he called upon me, and that I, as in duty bound, returned his call. I am ignorant of his character and disposition. I may add that I have no desire to be enlightened respecting them. I do not often take a dislike to anybody, but it so happens that I have done so in the case of Mr. Dyceworthy.
Dyceworthy," said Macfarlane in his slow, deliberate manner, "that ye have before ye a young Frenchman who doesna believe in onything except himsel' and even as to whether he himsel' is a mon or a myth, he has his doots vera grave doots." Duprez nodded delightedly. "That is so!" he exclaimed. "Our dear Sandy puts it so charmingly! To be a myth seems original, to be a mere man, quite ordinary.
"If you touch me!" cried Thelma, "I will kill you! I will! God will help me!" Again Mr. Dyceworthy laughed sneeringly. "God will help you!" he exclaimed as though in wonder. "As if God ever helped a Roman! Froeken Thelma, be sensible.
Poor little heart! does it flutter?" and Mr. Dyceworthy leered sweetly. "I will give it time to recover itself! Yes, yes! a little time! and then you will put that pretty hand in mine" here he drew nearer to her, "and with one kiss we will seal the compact!"
Froeken Thelma, I would never have believed it of you!" And he drew himself up with ponderous and sorrowful dignity. A burning blush had covered Thelma's face at the mention of Errington's name, but it soon faded, leaving her very pale. She changed her position so that she confronted Mr. Dyceworthy, her clear blue eyes regarded him steadfastly. "Is this what is said of me?" she asked calmly.
Dyceworthy's bland persuasive tones, echoing out with a soft sonorousness, as though he were preaching to some refractory parishioner. He listened attentively. "Oh strange, strange!" said Mr. Dyceworthy. "Strange that you will not see how graciously the Lord hath delivered you into my hands! Yea, and no escape is possible!
"Oh, I dinna ken aboot that!" he said hurriedly. "She's just a grand woman anyway." Then, bethinking himself of another subject, he asked, "Have you heard o' the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy lately?" Errington and Lorimer replied in the negative. Macfarlane laughed his eyes twinkled. "It's evident ye never read police reports," he said "Talk o' misters, he's a pretty specimen!
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