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Meddlechip, whose face was usually red and florid-looking, turned ghastly pale, and sprang to his feet. 'Octave Braulard! he gasped, placing his coffee cup on the counter. 'At your service, said Vandeloup, looking rapidly round to see that no one overheard the name, 'but here I am Gaston Vandeloup. Meddlechip passed his handkerchief over his face and moistened his dry lips with his tongue.
It was not personal pride he was not good-looking; it was not family pride he never had a grandfather; nor was it pecuniary pride he had too much money for that. But it was a mean, sneaking, insinuating pride that wrapped him round like a cloak, and pretended to be very humble, and only holding its money in trust for the poor. The poor ye have always with you did not Mr Meddlechip know it?
'You must leave Australia, said Meddlechip, sharply, and breathing hard. 'If I refuse? asked M. Vandeloup, lazily, smiling to himself. 'I will denounce you as a convict escaped from New Caledonia! hissed the other, putting his hands in his pockets, and bending forward. 'Indeed, said Gaston, with a charming smile, 'I don't think you will go so far as that, my friend.
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