” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. “I hate this!” Lucy accused him, pointing to the Michelle. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full.
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