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The more tender-hearted and sentimental world began to look upon Mrs. Gervase Norgate's bad husband, whom she had married in the face of his offence, as one of her merits, a chief merit, to make of her a popular victim and martyr, no matter that she was not naturally constituted for the rôle, was not frank enough for popularity, not meek enough for martyrdom.
A couple of gun-cases in one corner and a veritable stock of fishing implements in another showed that Leroy was not unaccustomed to sport; it was one of his man Norgate's complaints that he was not allowed to pack them away, but must leave them there, close at hand, just as Leroy might want them.
Since our little affair in the Café de Berlin, the Kaiser, who went out of his way to insist upon your removal from Berlin, has notified the Emperor that he would prefer to receive his most private dispatches either through the regular diplomatic channels or by some other messenger." Norgate's emphatic expletive was only half-stifled as she continued.
When the time comes, what further reward you may desire, whether it be rank or high position, you may have, but for the present let it be sufficient that you are my man." He held out his hand, and all the time his eyes never left Norgate's. Gone the florid and beaming geniality of the man, his easy good-humour, his air of good-living and rollicking gaiety. There were lines in his forehead.
She will tell you their names. I have others to look after." Norgate's last glimpse of Selingman was on the pavement outside the theatre, surrounded by a little group of light-hearted girls and a few young men. "He is perfectly wonderful, our Mr. Selingman," Miss Morgen murmured, as they started off. "Tell me how long you have known him, Mr. Norgate?" "Four days," Norgate replied.
This was discomfiting even to a man who piqued himself on his resources in conversation. Die had uttered twice as many of these abrupt, unamiable, unanswerable rejoinders within these twenty-four hours, since she had accepted Gervase Norgate's hand. Whatever Mr.
"It comes ill off your hand to say so," observed Gervase harshly. Undoubtedly he spoke no more than the truth, and such a life as Gervase Norgate's was not a school for magnanimity. Die winced a little; and she was a woman whose fair cheek so rarely blushed, that her blushing was like another woman's crying. Die never cried; Gervase Norgate had never wrung a tear from her, or seen her shed a tear.
"Dear me, that sounds very interesting!" He took up Norgate's card and glanced at it. The action was, in its way, significant. "You probably don't know who I am," Norgate continued. "I have been in the Diplomatic Service for eight years. Until a few days ago, I was attached to the Embassy in Berlin." Mr. Tyritt was somewhat impressed by the statement.
Are you not back again sooner than you expected?" Norgate nodded. "Very much sooner," he admitted. "I came in for some unexpected leave, which I haven't the slightest intention of spending abroad, so here I am." "Not, apparently, in love with Berlin," the lady, whose name was Mrs. Paston Benedek, remarked. Norgate's air of complete candour was very well assumed.
It was as if he had deemed anything good enough for a scapegrace and beast like him, and thought to pay the whole price in his own person. It would not be with his will if any other person, high or low, contributed to his heavy forfeits. And Gervase Norgate's servants, new as well as old, had a pitiful liking for him, a remorseful regard for his interests, even when these clashed with their own.
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