Something
must 'ave 'appened in that old 'ouse, an' I'll keep a lookout in the
_People_ and see wot it was. I'd like to 'ave been a fly on the wall
during that there interview, I would. A fly on the wall with a tiste for
short'and."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lady Kingsmead, who was going to the Newlyns' ball later, was having
dinner in her little sitting-room when Carron came rushing in, nearly
treading on the heels of the afflicted Fledge, who did like to have a
chance to announce visitors properly.
"Good Lord, Gerald!--what is the matter?"
"Matter enough. Brigit is Victor Joyselle's mistress."
He sank into a chair and pressed his thin hands together until the bones
cracked.
"Gerald!"
"She is! she _is_! I have just come from his studio in Chelsea. Followed
her there. She was alone with him for over an hour. And when she came
out----"
Lady Kingsmead rose and went to him.
"Now listen to me," she said firmly. "You have either been drinking or
you are mad. I don't care where you have been or where you saw Brigit.
This story is--rot!"
Lady Kingsmead was not a clever woman, but this move on her part, the
result not of a virtuous belief in virtue or of a sudden swing of her
mental pendulum towards the effective, such as some women have--was
amazing in its effect, because it was spontaneous and sincere.
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