But now my Lady’s wrath took an unpleasant form; one which, in its turn, aroused his resentment. It drove him even to a certain bitterness, as he sat in the bow-window of the County Club, pulling at his long clay. It drove the complacent memory of Molly Lafone’s smooth, pert cheek from his mind as with a sting. “’Pon me word,” he said, swinging his leg. “A man would think it was the leper I’d made of myself! Split me, Verney, if me Lady doesn’t whisk away her skirts as she crosses me path! And never a word out of her since she first had at me--Bejabers! I’m not like to forget that in a hurry! But it’s pinched lips and dropped eyes and turn away with her till I’m crazy.” Squire Day and my Lord Verney gazed with compassion on the sinner, the compassion that is the worst kind of condemnation. Then Squire Day said, a little drily: “’Tis a pity that the occasion should have been quite so public.” And my Lord Verney, drawing in his turn the clay from his lips, burst out: “Susan says--My Lady Verney hath it that ’twas Mistress Lafone’s very plan, to show you up before their gracious Majesties and shame Kitty.” Kilcroney stared a moment with widening eyes and dropping jaw at the speaker. Then the crimson rose in his handsome dissipated face. “Ah! God help you!” he exclaimed, “if that isn’t the ladies all over. ’Tis the down of the world they have on that poor little creature. And what in the name o’ God should she want to be playing such a thrick for? And sure, oughtn’t I to know, ’twas the innocentest----” he broke off, for Squire Day’s laugh was loud. “Innocent?” he repeated. “My dear Kil, ’tis you who are as innocent as Adam! But I’m with you on one point. The ladies have treated that little Lafone monstrous cruel. I doubt if they have as much as let her nibble a macaroon with them since they came down here. And your Kitty has given the lead.” “My Kitty!” exclaimed her spouse in a generous heat. “Why, man, she’s picked that same Molly out of a hundred scrapes. Sure, Lafone’s no more sense than a child. Why, she owes my Lady----” “Ah,” said Squire Day, quietly, “she’s one who pays back with interest.” Kilcroney stared again. “I’ll be hanged if I know what you’re driving at, men,” he began, but suddenly fell silent with fixed eyes. His arm-chair was opposite the door, which had now been quietly opened; a fine portly gentleman walked in as if the place belonged to him. “Tare and ’ounds, lads,” cried the Irishman, under his breath. “Here’s His Royal Highness!” and sprang to his feet. The next instant the club-room rang with shouts of mirth. “By the Holy Father! Stafford! Ned, me boy, I took you for the Prince of Wales. ’Pon me living soul, I did. Oh, Ned, Ned! ’tis the fill of your waistcoat you are, and no mistake.” “His Highness ought to be flattered,” said Mr. Stafford, who was not. * * * * *