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Of all the novel sensations which his wealth had brought to "the Golden Shoemaker," this was the most distinctly and entirely new. It had not seemed to him more strange, though it had been less agreeable, to be the object of Bounder's obsequious attentions, than it did now to receive the worship of these simple villagers. In due course they reached the Hall gates, and entered the grounds.
"If that bounder's heart would bleed and bleed and bleed to death, I should not cross the road to fetch a doctor." About a fortnight later the annual County Fair was held outside San Lorenzo. We drove to the Buena Vista Hotel, and, to our surprise, upon the broad verandah we discovered Angela, in the last of her pretty dresses, and Thorpe. Angela explained matters.
Peter stopped and looked at him for a moment. He felt rather dazed, as if someone had hit him a blow on the head. He had to remember what was this funny bounder's place in the newly-revealed scheme of things. Not merely a funny bounder after all, it seemed, but just what Cheriton had called him.
Any other boat can come into the Channel and he don't take any notice, but let my boys be out late and Bounder, lying asleep on the floor, will start up at the chugging of the launch and make for the dock. He never makes a mistake." Farwell laughed and bent over to smooth Bounder's back. "What time is it?" he asked. "Six-thirty," Mary replied with alarming readiness.
And she had been that bounder's wife in his arms! Divorced! Harriet Field? Poor girl, cornered by this unscrupulous scoundrel, this bully, with all the ugly past dragged up like the muddy bottom of a river, staining and clouding the clear waters. And what a look she had given him, there under the lamp! "It's a funny code," he mused. "Barbarians, that's what we are, when it comes to women.
And though Lady Mallowe was a woman not in the least distressed or hampered by shades of delicacy and scruple, she surely was astute enough to realize that even this bounder's dullness might be awakened to realize that there was more than a touch of obvious indecency in bringing the girl to the house of the man she had tragically loved, and manoeuvering to work her into it as the wife of the man who, monstrously unfit as he was, had taken his place.
Summoning a passing boy, he ordered him to knock at the door. The boy contemplated disobedience; but a glance at Bounder's whip induced him to change his mind, and he gave the door a sounding rap. The door speedily opened, and Bounder's master appeared. But such was his disguise that Bounder was necessitated to rub his eyes.
The exact truth was that, on one occasion, his master had stopped the carriage for the purpose of giving a lift to a respectable, though not well-to-do, pedestrian, and in another instance, a working-class woman and her tired little one had been invited to take their seats on Bounder's sacred cushions, Bounder's master himself alighting to lift the bedusted child to her place.
He doesn't tell me the bounder's name, but that's no matter. I don't want to go into partnership. I shall sell, sell, sell, at the top of the boom. Gardner's to be trusted. He'll know and then and then " "Yes; what does it mean?" the girl broke in. "I want to know exactly, Jerry!" "Mean?" he echoed, his hands upon her shoulders.
He simply indicated them with his whip to the woman who had come to the door in some surprise, and ignoring her expression of thanks, turned the head of his horse, and drove gloomily away. That night, "Cobbler" Horn's outraged coachman sought speech with his master. "I wish to give you warning, sir," he said, touching his hat, and speaking in tones of perfect respect. Bounder's master started.
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