She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. What would you? I cannot fight them all. But I've an old friend on the way here, and he knows the game down there. Sheppard had been interred. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly.
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