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Chater, apprehension creeping among the roots of his hair, affirmed that he would have dropped dead in the precise spot at which he happened to be standing at the moment. Mrs. Chater trumpeted "Never!" dropped to her chair, and continued. "You would have been glad." Her voice shook. "Glad and in all this wide world only my Bob and my blessed lambs in the nursery would have wept o'er my body."
Other lords were there a many, in no wise of less reputation than their fellows. The son of Po that was hight Donander; Regian, son of Abauder; Ceilus the son of Coil, that son of Chater named Chatellus, Griffin, the heir of Nagroil, Ron, the son of Neco; Margoil, Clefaut, Ringar, Angan, Rimar and Gorbonian, Kinlint, Neco and that Peredur, whom men deemed to be gotten by Eladur.
Bob Chater was of these are over-freighted upon one quarter or another: they sail with a list.
Through all this scene in one form or another a matter of daily occurrence, and therefore not to arouse interest Mary had stood waiting its cessation and her orders. Mr. Chater turned upon her. Naturally disposed to be kind to the girl, he yet readily saw in his wife's statement a way of escape from the castigation he had been enduring.
If I went boldly to Chater, then it would only be the betrayal of myself. No. I decided that the man who had smoked and chatted with me so affably on that hot, breathless night in the Mediterranean must remain in ignorance of my presence, or of my knowledge.
Chater considered it annoying, yet found in it certain comfortable advantages as sympathy from friends: "Mustn't it be rather awkward sometimes, Mrs. Chater?" A plaintive shrug would illustrate the answer: "Well, it is, of course, very awkward sometimes; but one must put up with it.
The tigress paused in the projection of another spring; sniffed suspiciously. "Oh!" "About that young Lord Comeragh," Mr. Chater hurried on, delighted with his success. "He was up at Marlborough Street police-court this morning at least his butler was; of course his lordship wouldn't go himself charged with furiously driving his motorcar; and who do you think was in the car with him at the time?
Her face when the cab brought her back! And trying to feel her heart! And her rage with that little worm of a Mr. Chater! Can't you see the fun of it instead of crying over it?" Mary-in-the-glass could. The successive recollections induced the prettiest dimples on her face. She was at once forgiven.
Chater, if you are a man you will tell your mother why you were thrashed. Do you dare to say you interfered because you found me with someone? Do you dare?" With masterly strategy Bob drove home a flank attack. To have affirmed he did dare might lead to appalling outburst from this little vixen.
There was a strained atmosphere in the room, and he was a little frightened. "Oh!" Out from the brandy-and-soda came the nose; down went the glass with an emphasising bang: "Oh!" Mr. Chater gave a startled little jump.
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