George Lauriston hated him, and would have excused himself from this excursion if he had known that Captain Pascoe was to be of the party. On this, the eve of his marriage, when to him the word woman signified all things pure, all things holy, every glance cast by this _roué_ at the fair girls in the boats that went by, every slow, soft word with which he passed an opinion on their looks, seemed to George like a sting in a sensitive place. So he lighted his pipe and toiled along bravely in the sun on the towing-path, watching the green trees as they seemed to quiver in the hot air, the velvet bees and the slender dragon-flies that flew across his path, the dry cracking earth at his feet, seeing nothing all the time but a small, ever-changing face, hearing in the hum of the bees only a young girl’s voice. When they came to Temple Lock, and he got back into the boat with the rest, their talk jarred on him more than ever; they were discussing the attraction of a certain Chloris White, a great star of the _demi-monde_, to whom Captain Pascoe had introduced the two lads the evening before. Massey was, of course, raving about the exquisite taste of her dress, the charming _chic_ of her manners, the sheen of her golden hair, the languid glances of her eyes, and a great deal more of the same sort, giving off as usual in effusive praises the admiration which, if it had been more contained, might have proved dangerous. But Dicky Wood said so little and blushed so much, that George, who knew that he was rich, had heard sensational stories about this woman’s bloodsucking propensities, and knew that she had helped Pascoe himself to gobble up his patrimony, had a burst of rage against the latter for introducing the lads to her. He remained silently and stolidly smoking therefore, while the others talked. Massey, however, insisted on dragging him into the conversation. “Here, I say, Lauriston, haven’t you got anything to say on the subject? Haven’t you seen Chloris White?” he said, with a gentle kick at his companion from where he lay stretched at full length in the bows. “Not that I know of,” answered George indifferently. “Lauriston always looks the other way when he sees one of those ladies coming,” said Captain Pascoe in his soft voice. “No, I don’t,” said George rather aggressively. “Why should I?” “Well, I’m sure I don’t know why you should,” said the other, in the lazy but effective manner habitual to him, as if he really wished they wouldn’t give him the trouble of talking, but if they insisted on bringing it upon themselves, why there it was, you know. “Only I’d heard you liked something of a milder flavour.”