As it is, Sling, my boy, I commiserate you--but hallo!
Devenham, what's wrong? You look a little off color."
"Well, for one thing, I want my breakfast," answered the Viscount.
"So do I!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet, "but, b'gad,
Dick, you do look a bit palish round the gills, y' know."
"Effect of hunger and a bad night, perhaps."
"Had a bad night, hey, Dick? Why, so did I," said the Captain,
frowning. "Dreamed that the 'Rascal' fell and broke his neck, poor
devil, and that I was running like the wind--jumping hedges and
ditches with Jasper Gaunt close at my heels--oh, cursed unpleasant,
y'know! What--is breakfast ready? Then let's sit down, b'gad, I'm
famished!"
So down they sat forthwith and, despite the Viscount's arm, and the
Marquis of Jerningham's cravat, a very hearty and merry meal they
made of it.
But lo! as they prepared to rise from the table, voices were heard
beyond the door, whereupon the Viscount sat up suddenly to listen.
"Why--egad!" he exclaimed, "I do believe it's my Roman!"
"No, by heaven!" said the Marquis, also listening, "dooce take me if
it isn't my great-aunt--her Graceless Grace, by Jove it is!"
Even as he spoke, the door opened and the Duchess swept in, all
rustling silks and furbelows, very small, very dignified, and very
imperious.
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