"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. ’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. ’ ‘Yes, she will.
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