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'
'No doubt; that is your true adventurer's style. He confides implicitly
in his own talents, and in somebody else's banker. Mr. Hammond would
make a tremendous figure in the world, I daresay, and while he was
making it your brother would have to keep him. Well, my dear Lesbia, I
hope you gave this gentleman the answer his insolence deserved; or that
you did better, and referred him to me. I should be glad to give him my
opinion of his conduct--a person admitted to this house as your
brother's hanger-on--tolerated only on your brother's account; such a
person, nameless, penniless, friendless (except for Maulevrier's too
facile patronage), to dare to lift his eyes to my granddaughter! It is
ineffable insolence!'
Lesbia crouched by her grandmother's chair, her face hidden from Lady
Maulevrier's falcon eye. Every word uttered by her ladyship stung like
the knotted cords of a knout. She knew not whether to be most ashamed of
her lover or of herself--of her lover for his obscure position, his
hopeless poverty; of herself for her folly in loving such a man.


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