As
for taking Lord Rufford by the back of his neck and shaking him
into matrimony, he knew that that would be altogether out of his
power. And then the hour was so wretchedly early. It was that
little fool Mistletoe who had named ten o'clock,--a fellow who took
Parliamentary papers to bed with him, and had a blue book brought
to him every morning at half-past seven with a cup of tea. By ten
o'clock Lord Augustus would not have had time to take his first
glass of soda and brandy preparatory to the labour of getting into
his clothes. But he was afraid of his wife and daughter, and
absolutely did get into a cab at the door of his lodgings in Duke
Street, St. James', precisely at a quarter past ten. As the Duke's
house was close to the corner of Clarges Street the journey he had
to make was not long.
Lord Rufford would not have agreed to the interview but that it was
forced upon him by his brother-in-law. "What good can it do?" Lord
Rufford had asked. But his brother-in-law had held that that was a
question to be answered by the other side. In such a position Sir
George thought that he was bound to concede as much as this,--in fact
to concede almost anything short of marriage. "He can't do the girl any
good by talking," Lord Rufford had said. Sir George assented to this,
but nevertheless thought that any friend deputed by her should be
allowed to talk, at any rate once.
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