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"She is beautiful, isn't she, with that mass of golden hair and her eyes?" "Yes, she is," answered Hillyard. "And what a fright she is making of herself! She isn't dressed at all, is she? She is just protected by her clothes." Hillyard laughed and Millicent Splay sighed. "And I did hope she would have got over it all by Goodwood. But no! Really I could slap her. But I might have known!
"I went down to Gardencourt this morning, and the servant told me she had come to London. He believed she was to come to you." Again Miss Stackpole held him with an intention of perfect kindness in suspense. "She came here yesterday, and spent the night. But this morning she started for Rome." Caspar Goodwood was not looking at her; his eyes were fastened on the doorstep.
"What! a Demon like you afraid of a little touch of 'eat; wouldn't 'ave believed it unless I 'ad 'eard it with my own ears," said Mr. Leopold. "Come, now, do yer want to ride the crack at Goodwood or do yer not? If you do, remain quiet, and let us finish taking off the last couple of pounds."
Then he fidgeted, and humm'd and haw'd for such a time that tea had begun to come in before I could understand the least bit what the mess was; but it was something about a Cora de la Haye, who dances at the Empire, and a diamond necklace, and how he was madly in love with her, and intended to marry her, but he had lost such a lot of money at Goodwood, that no one knew about, as he was supposed not to have been there, that he could not pay for the necklace unless his grandfather gave him a lump sum to pay his debts at Oxford with, and that what he wanted was for me to get round the old Earl to give him this money, and then he could pay for Cora de la Haye's necklace.
"Only," he heavily said, "I hate to lose sight of you!" "Never fear. I shall do no harm." "You'll marry some one else, as sure as I sit here," Caspar Goodwood declared. "Do you think that a generous charge?" "Why not? Plenty of men will try to make you." "I told you just now that I don't wish to marry and that I almost certainly never shall."
After what you've done I shall never feel anything I mean anything but that. That I shall feel all my life." Mr. Goodwood made these detached assertions with dry deliberateness, in his hard, slow American tone, which flung no atmospheric colour over propositions intrinsically crude.
He thinks to win more and more, and he thinks to buy another third from old Carbut. Is it not foolish? It is so wicked of him." "Oh, yes," said the Goodwood Plunger, nodding, "I see now. You want me to take him away so that he can keep what he has. I see; but I don't know him. He will not listen to me, you know; I have no right to interfere." He turned away, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
She had been obliged to introduce him to Gilbert; it was impossible she should not ask him to dinner, to her Thursday evenings, of which she had grown very weary, but to which her husband still held for the sake not so much of inviting people as of not inviting them. To the Thursdays Mr. Goodwood came regularly, solemnly, rather early; he appeared to regard them with a good deal of gravity.
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