With his usual slow step Lord Borodaile descended the stairs, and walked towards the central quartier of town. His meditations were of no soothing nature. “To be seen by that man in a ridiculous and degrading situation; to be pestered with his d--d civility; to be rivalled by him with Lady Flora; to be duped and outdone by him with my mistress! Ay, all this have I been; but vengeance shall come yet. As for La Meronville, the loss is a gain; and, thank Heaven, I did not betray myself by venting my passion and making a scene. But it was I. who ought to have discarded her, not the reverse; and--death and confusion--for that upstart, above all men! And she talked in her letter about his eyes and words. Insolent coxcomb, to dare to have eyes and words for one who belonged to me. Well, well, he shall smart for this. But let me consider: I must not play the jealous fool, must not fight for a ----, must not show the world that a man, nobody knows who, could really outwit and outdo me,--me,--Francis Borodaile! No, no: I must throw the insult upon him, must myself be the aggressor and the challenged; then, too, I shall have the choice of weapons,--pistols of course. Where shall I hit him, by the by? I wish I shot as well as I used to do at Naples. I was in full practice then. Cursed place, where there was nothing else to do but to practise!” Immersed in these or somewhat similar reflections did Lord Borodaile enter Pall Mall. “Ah, Borodaile!” said Lord St. George, suddenly emerging from a shop. “This is really fortunate: you are going my way exactly; allow me to join you.” Now Lord Borodaile, to say nothing of his happening at that time to be in a mood more than usually unsocial, could never at any time bear the thought of being made an instrument of convenience, pleasure, or good fortune to another. He therefore, with a little resentment at Lord St. George’s familiarity, coldly replied, “I am sorry that I cannot avail myself of your offer. I am sure my way is not the same as yours.” “Then,” replied Lord St. George, who was a good-natured, indolent man, who imagined everybody was as averse to walking alone as he was, “then I will make mine the same as yours.” Borodaile coloured: though always uncivil, he did not like to be excelled in good manners; and therefore replied, that nothing but extreme business at White’s could have induced him to prefer his own way to that of Lord St. George. The good-natured peer took Lord Borodaile’s arm. It was a natural incident, but it vexed the punctilious viscount that any man should take, not offer, the support. “So, they say,” observed Lord St. George, “that young Linden is to marry Lady Flora Ardenne.” “Les on-dits font la gazette des fous,” rejoined Borodaile with a sneer. “I believe that Lady Flora is little likely to contract such a misalliance.” “Misalliance!” replied Lord St. George. “I thought Linden was of a very old family; which you know the Westboroughs are not, and he has great expectations--”