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“At the door?” | Lady Sandgate | cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent | vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I | a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” | she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she | fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce | a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The | that has been thrown into the arena for quite a while. I guess I can do with it for _that_.” Lady Sandgate, on this, after a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had | you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.”<|quote|>“At the door?”</|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! | The Outcry |
She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. | No speaker | my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for | “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off | might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her | promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he | “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she | account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, | thrown into the arena for quite a while. I guess I can do with it for _that_.” Lady Sandgate, on this, after a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than | children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?”<|quote|>She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.</|quote|>“I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with | The Outcry |
“I can easily send for it.” | Lady Sandgate | assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while | door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet | her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting | pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself | which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of | you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and | guess I can do with it for _that_.” Lady Sandgate, on this, after a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to | words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell.<|quote|>“I can easily send for it.”</|quote|>And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want | The Outcry |
And she threw off while they waited: | No speaker | can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying | to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He | plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in | stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to | for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, | --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it | for _that_.” Lady Sandgate, on this, after a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear | but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.”<|quote|>And she threw off while they waited:</|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The | The Outcry |
“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” | Lady Sandgate | threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude | send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round | a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, | pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he | whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no | would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her | a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my | won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited:<|quote|>“It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”</|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he | The Outcry |
He put it with promptitude another way. | No speaker | ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well | waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in | To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for | it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. | “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler | the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have | if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” | His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!”<|quote|>He put it with promptitude another way.</|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my | The Outcry |
“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” | Bender | it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” | with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, | a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to | possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To | Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and | said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- | the soundness of her main bridge. “Well, if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why | account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way.<|quote|>“It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”</|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the | The Outcry |
“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” | Lady Sandgate | round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, | promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. | my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she | selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then | I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince | times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley | if it’s the biggest bone I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you | I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!”<|quote|>“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”</|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what | The Outcry |
she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: | No speaker | “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket | round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” | She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. | might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded | give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was | to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” | I won’t touch it; I’ll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that | verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,”<|quote|>she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:</|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward | The Outcry |
“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” | Bender | interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but | summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his | while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. | “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly | you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he | your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my | me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I’ll name one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which | me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him:<|quote|>“You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”</|quote|>“Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano | The Outcry |
“Very good, sir,” | Gotch | a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word | “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John | your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who | right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the | going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the | She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” | one--and as you prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved | say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”<|quote|>“Very good, sir,”</|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him | The Outcry |
said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. | No speaker | morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to | the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she | put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, | which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But | on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me | little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to | prefer big prices I’ll try to make it suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on | His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,”<|quote|>said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.</|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car | The Outcry |
“Lord John would like to know--” | Gotch | another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. | good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open | round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop | “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed | full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When | the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” | suit you. Only it won’t be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had | it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress.<|quote|>“Lord John would like to know--”</|quote|>“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have | The Outcry |
“Lord John’s there?” | Lady Sandgate | John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to | word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he | Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And | car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I | “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me | “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what | for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for | help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--”<|quote|>“Lord John’s there?”</|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve | The Outcry |
she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. | No speaker | to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” | mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, | car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: | door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The | “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments | at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The | of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The | to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?”<|quote|>she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must | The Outcry |
“Here he is, my lady.” | Gotch | turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, | John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to | answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s | a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for | of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by | was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he | whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady | I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door.<|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.”</|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, | The Outcry |
She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. | No speaker | “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round | turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender | of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly | send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there | then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady | a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my | know, about my great-grandmother.” “Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!” --and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, | me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”<|quote|>She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.</|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car | The Outcry |
“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” | Lady Sandgate | involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw | Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the | “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately | your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his | you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as | which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he | of overcharged shoulders. But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before | can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence.<|quote|>“It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”</|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” | The Outcry |
Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. | No speaker | went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And | lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man | for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” | way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage | the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with | Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to | she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we | me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”<|quote|>Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.</|quote|>“To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your | The Outcry |
“To stop the show?” | Bender | stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young | to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve | to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. | _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is | her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared | after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, | even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” | rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection.<|quote|>“To stop the show?”</|quote|>And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and | The Outcry |
And then as the young man was already there: | No speaker | connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s | Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord | there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The | his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in | heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, | of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. | conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the | I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?”<|quote|>And then as the young man was already there:</|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And | The Outcry |
“You’ve stopped the show?” | Bender | young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” | show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch | “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as | answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, | was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the | freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. | to the touch. “You’ve been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she | a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there:<|quote|>“You’ve stopped the show?”</|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed | The Outcry |
“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” | Lord John | there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch | the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless | lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the | owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his | to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward | no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up | been delivered into my hands--too charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, | your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”<|quote|>“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”</|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost | The Outcry |
Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. | No speaker | “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” | there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I | once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action | further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did | and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about | then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I | charmingly; and you won’t really pretend that you don’t recognise that and in fact rather like it.” He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And | earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!”<|quote|>Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.</|quote|>“But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once | The Outcry |
“But Theign should be here!” | Lady Sandgate | she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I | different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from | stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage | mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember | breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign | I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s | as to a case of coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will | give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched.<|quote|>“But Theign should be here!”</|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with | The Outcry |
--he addressed her excitedly. | No speaker | “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call | she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” | “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is | to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard | in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse | can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his | coolness unparalleled--though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his | gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”<|quote|>--he addressed her excitedly.</|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse | The Outcry |
“I announce you a call from the Prince.” | Lord John | here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as | despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the | And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, | there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the | the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He | she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the | a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall | obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly.<|quote|>“I announce you a call from the Prince.”</|quote|>“The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his | The Outcry |
“The Prince?” | Lady Sandgate | a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the | her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He | there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite | door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed | touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you | the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, | question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish | no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary | The Outcry |
--she gasped as for the burden of the honour. | No speaker | from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, | “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a | stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. | he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of | bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired | picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she | whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him | of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?”<|quote|>--she gasped as for the burden of the honour.</|quote|>“He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord | The Outcry |
“He follows you?” | Lady Sandgate | the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness | Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was | John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there | under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though | threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to | in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was | to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, | “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour.<|quote|>“He follows you?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll | The Outcry |
Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. | No speaker | the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the | as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in | Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he | eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he | they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I | myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given | or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly--and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so | bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.</|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when | The Outcry |
“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” | Bender | associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite | ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of | excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in | show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of | cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon | be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at | it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help | may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility.<|quote|>“Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”</|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary | The Outcry |
Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. | No speaker | the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to | advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; | from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of | man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for | to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take | on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John | felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the “artful,” opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what | give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?”<|quote|>Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.</|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, | The Outcry |
“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” | Lord John | of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to | spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as | “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would | John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” | instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly | thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here | his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. “Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?” he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, “Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain’t you honestly going to help me?” he pursued. This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in | I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message.<|quote|>“He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”</|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know | The Outcry |
the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, | No speaker | embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an | noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he | and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign | an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in | complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear | yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s | engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she | some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,”<|quote|>the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,</|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” | The Outcry |
“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” | Lord John | man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for | I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is | by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even | no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- | he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as | have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is | “Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I’ll help you if you’ll help _me!_” “You’ll really get me something from him to go on with?” “I’ll get you something from him to go on with.” “That’s all I ask--to get _that_. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I’m held up.” “You shall have it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady | I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate,<|quote|>“I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”</|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant | The Outcry |
Their hostess cast about for a sign. | No speaker | and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, | and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls | account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man | pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is | had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, | added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did | it,” she replied, “if I in turn may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it | you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”<|quote|>Their hostess cast about for a sign.</|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not | The Outcry |
“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” | Lady Sandgate | cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on | him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and | delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though | to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to | be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by | cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced | may look to _you_ for a trifle on account.” “Well,” he dryly gloomed at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. | this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign.<|quote|>“Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”</|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender | The Outcry |
“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” | Lord John | Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she | at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m | thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept | the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly | Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by | to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of | at her, “what do you call a trifle?” “I mean” --she waited but an instant-- “what you would feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only | passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_”<|quote|>“He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”</|quote|>“He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then | The Outcry |
“He’s very kind, but” | Lady Sandgate | so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- | five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll | come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may | the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll | an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of | so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put | feel as one.” “That won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for | messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”<|quote|>“He’s very kind, but”</|quote|>--she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? | The Outcry |
--she took in her condition-- | No speaker | you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll | me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man | and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” | to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll | candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have | round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear | won’t do. You haven’t the least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my | herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but”<|quote|>--she took in her condition--</|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round | The Outcry |
“I’m not even _dressed!_” | Lady Sandgate | --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young | you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while | him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but | as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should | recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore | put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the | least idea, Lady Sandgate,” he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her | on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition--<|quote|>“I’m not even _dressed!_”</|quote|>“You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s | The Outcry |
“You’ll have time” | Lord John | condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a | but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to | hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want | as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst | his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest | another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He | he earnestly said, “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has | sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_”<|quote|>“You’ll have time”</|quote|>--the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady | The Outcry |
--the young man was a comfort-- | No speaker | even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley | in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though | for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s | he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be | a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the | flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why | “_how_ I feel at these foolish times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh | monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time”<|quote|>--the young man was a comfort--</|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want | The Outcry |
“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” | Lord John | young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his | _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept | at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ | that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t | auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove | “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. | times. I’ve never got used to them yet.” “Ah, don’t you understand,” she pressed, “that if I give you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in | “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort--<|quote|>“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”</|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it | The Outcry |
“That’s, that’s it, take his car!” | Lady Sandgate | I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him | me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my | five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my | putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” | nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed | the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that | you an advantage I’m completely at your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and | another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.”<|quote|>“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”</|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed | The Outcry |
--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. | No speaker | that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car | just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- | to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. | worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to | there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of | “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” | your mercy?” “Well, what mercy,” he groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were | full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!”<|quote|>--Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.</|quote|>“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red | The Outcry |
“You may use my car all right,” | Bender | Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what | it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is | kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll | and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On | the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock | large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved | groaned, “do you deserve?” She waited a little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, | and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.<|quote|>“You may use my car all right,”</|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, | The Outcry |
Mr. Bender contributed-- | No speaker | use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to | swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s | “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why | him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as | way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there | said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance | little, brightly composed--then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl | he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,”<|quote|>Mr. Bender contributed--</|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there | The Outcry |
“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” | Bender | all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his | “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. | _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught | Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, | pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in | another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had | she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your | --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed--<|quote|>“but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”</|quote|>“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco | The Outcry |
“The man? what man?” | Lord John | is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to | what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you | I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the | Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, | he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, | “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and | “Go and look at her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, | laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.”<|quote|>“The man? what man?”</|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the | The Outcry |
his friend scarce paused to ask. | No speaker | _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow | know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is | Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious | Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the | to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are | interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. | her again and you’ll see.” His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh | than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?”<|quote|>his friend scarce paused to ask.</|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” | The Outcry |
“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” | Bender | friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. | “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear | so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With | calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was | sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s | door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. | protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance--his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave | while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.<|quote|>“The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”</|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and | The Outcry |
Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. | No speaker | Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear | allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why | Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to | put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick | I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What | eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” | the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried | pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?”<|quote|>Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.</|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before | The Outcry |
“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” | Lord John | Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” | Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only | “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s | kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done | man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his | in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he | within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” | the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority.<|quote|>“If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”</|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, | The Outcry |
“Oh why should he ‘wait’?” | Bender | my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only | disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, | Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which | not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s | clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too | round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she | was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from | “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”<|quote|>“Oh why should he ‘wait’?”</|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round | The Outcry |
burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. | No speaker | “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I | my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for | want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same | time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering | could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put | Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the | gave it his eyes once more--though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t | Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?”<|quote|>burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.</|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, | The Outcry |
“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” | Lady Sandgate | so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again | however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants | Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, | near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed | but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him | “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but | freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” | Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution.<|quote|>“Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”</|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than | The Outcry |
With which she appealed again to Lord John. | No speaker | you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On | indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told | picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of | --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a | worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What | while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your | back to his hostess. “Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” | round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!”<|quote|>With which she appealed again to Lord John.</|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t | The Outcry |
“He wants to ‘congratulate’?” | Lady Sandgate | appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve | any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to | wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must | use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay | and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I | John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may | me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. | of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John.<|quote|>“He wants to ‘congratulate’?”</|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” | The Outcry |
“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” | Lord John | John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought | she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by | you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove | right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to | explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved | the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she | me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?” “How can I say fairer,” she returned, “than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I’ve passed you my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d | nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?”<|quote|>“On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”</|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for | The Outcry |
Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. | No speaker | took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the | Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed | give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what | a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady | five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she | burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can | my word for, thrown in, I’ll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed--characteristically!--to give for this one.” “If it’s a question of resignation,” said Mr. Bender, “you mean of course what I may be disposed--characteristically!--_not_ to give.” She played on him for an instant all her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for | with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.”<|quote|>Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.</|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate | The Outcry |
“The decision to remove the picture?” | Lady Sandgate | dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a | company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of | up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with | indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” | just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the | this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s | her radiance. “Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl | ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue.<|quote|>“The decision to remove the picture?”</|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached | The Outcry |
Lord John also observed a discretion. | No speaker | decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such | and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay | as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all | up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but | it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t | his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ | sharp rich thing!” “And you take in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At | good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?”<|quote|>Lord John also observed a discretion.</|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why | The Outcry |
“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” | Lord John | John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender | to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact | as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, | she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking | almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, | Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance | in, I assume,” he pursued, “that I’m just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. | I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion.<|quote|>“He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”</|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her | The Outcry |
This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. | No speaker | still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and | thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to | Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he | you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His | I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he | simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate | want, with the full weight of a determined man.” “Well,” she laughed, “I promise you I’ll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. | And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!”<|quote|>This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.</|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly | The Outcry |
“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” | Bender | a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained | not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on | once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is | Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t | paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed | his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on | thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.” “All right then!” And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. “How’ll you have it?” She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I | Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions.<|quote|>“But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”</|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. | The Outcry |
Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. | No speaker | decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! | in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw | you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise | therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, | should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground | account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance | with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it | so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?”<|quote|>Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.</|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who | The Outcry |
“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” | Lord John | had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, | off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater | what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to | issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the | wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it | must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself | for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for | this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off.<|quote|>“Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”</|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door | The Outcry |
Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. | No speaker | _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I | been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he | Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They | Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In | up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want | forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the | plum and his privilege. “Will you write a cheque?” “Yes, if you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the | know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!”<|quote|>Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.</|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some | The Outcry |
“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” | Bender | all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not | Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had | thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much | a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which | John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel | congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to | you want it right away.” To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: “But my cheque-book’s down in my car.” “At the door?” She scarce required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t | “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment.<|quote|>“What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”</|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept | The Outcry |
His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. | No speaker | Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, | he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t | he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” | questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” | his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived | on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make | required his assent to touch a bell. “I can easily send for it.” And she threw off while they waited: “It’s so sweet your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I | as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?”<|quote|>His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.</|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and | The Outcry |
“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” | Lady Sandgate | curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. | recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow | bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who | in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she | perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening | kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She | your ‘flying round’ with your cheque-book!” He put it with promptitude another way. “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest | car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions.<|quote|>“They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”</|quote|>He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh | The Outcry |
He looked at her askance. | No speaker | I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow | on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at | and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the | long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t | interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case | time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch | “It flies round pretty well with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you | congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.”<|quote|>He looked at her askance.</|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, | The Outcry |
“Then why does the fellow say you have?” | Lady Sandgate | He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for | I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found | report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to | now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. | to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but | a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and | with _Mr_----!” “Mr. Bender’s cheque-book--in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly | _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance.<|quote|>“Then why does the fellow say you have?”</|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from | The Outcry |
Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. | No speaker | the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog | her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ | expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate | as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to | her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for | And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in | went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons. The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I | away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?”<|quote|>Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.</|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with | The Outcry |
“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” | Lady Sandgate | she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she | a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance | not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” | I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ | the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after | “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were | the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, | car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way.<|quote|>“Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”</|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal | The Outcry |
In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. | No speaker | doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” | fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at | “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from | bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall | such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the | “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh | large red morocco case.” “Very good, sir,” said Gotch--but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know--” “Lord John’s there?” she interrupted. Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was | Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!”<|quote|>In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.</|quote|>“The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even | The Outcry |
“The large red morocco case.” | No speaker | which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at | been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay | the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she | not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for | we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they | “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A | door. “Here he is, my lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten | my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention.<|quote|>“The large red morocco case.”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat | The Outcry |
Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. | No speaker | “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it | which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said | her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and | had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him | Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant | he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” | lady.” She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had | his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.</|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” | The Outcry |
“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” | Lady Sandgate | Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though | large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed | agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ | subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived | decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, | after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried | under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” | to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it.<|quote|>“Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”</|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for | The Outcry |
she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: | No speaker | Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he | at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s | In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he | “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson | in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave | “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping | in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.” Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for | observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,”<|quote|>she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:</|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and | The Outcry |
“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” | Lady Sandgate | she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination | he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground | the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his | askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that | hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to | companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left | the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of | the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor:<|quote|>“Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”</|quote|>“The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady | The Outcry |
“The Prince?” | Bender | we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed | resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which | for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, | say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had | off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She | in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest | And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations | stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?”<|quote|>“The Prince?”</|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the | The Outcry |
Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. | No speaker | before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” | her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he | to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he | have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He | solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, | next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it | as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?” “It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor | _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?”<|quote|>Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.</|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell | The Outcry |
“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” | Bender | but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he | lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. | my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive | he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, | a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with | again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. | hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he | as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps.<|quote|>“Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”</|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” | The Outcry |
“Well, he may when he sees her!” | Lady Sandgate | “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, | but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give | Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to | which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; | h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady | wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you | strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent | Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?”<|quote|>“Well, he may when he sees her!”</|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t | The Outcry |
Lady Sandgate laughed. | No speaker | may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, | want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his | again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening | of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with | he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble | I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” | had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even | stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!”<|quote|>Lady Sandgate laughed.</|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” | The Outcry |
“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” | Lady Sandgate | sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him | “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which | resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one | bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might | and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man | I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish | despatched. “But Theign should be here!” --he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.” “The Prince?” --she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in | calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed.<|quote|>“And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”</|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what | The Outcry |
she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. | No speaker | fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can | sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” | to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page | Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, | resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, | shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are | the burden of the honour. “He follows you?” Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince _after_ the thing?” Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores | by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?”<|quote|>she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.</|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her | The Outcry |
“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” | Lady Sandgate | had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve | his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained | information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented | strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found | loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright | dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the | John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you | the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself.<|quote|>“What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”</|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” | The Outcry |
“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” | Bender | never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly | “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest | asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, | it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent | the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These | picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” | but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh--to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was | swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!”<|quote|>“That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”</|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he | The Outcry |
He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay | No speaker | you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to | for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly | he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. | steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch | _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention | wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! | see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!--and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had | to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!”<|quote|>He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay</|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened | The Outcry |
“Well, I leave it to you!” | Lady Sandgate | away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, | him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for | her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the | for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion | we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our | now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s | with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. | the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay<|quote|>“Well, I leave it to you!”</|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it | The Outcry |
She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. | No speaker | I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” | with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took | the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, | had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the | Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. | this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has | mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting | stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!”<|quote|>She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” | The Outcry |
“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” | Gotch | door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took | recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. | it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her | high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained | when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can | beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to | explain him his reasons.” Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting Lord Theign, unattended, who, at | issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince | The Outcry |
“Mr. Crimble _again?_” | Lady Sandgate | “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It | door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the | table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has | consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I | Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But | talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” | hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting Lord Theign, unattended, who, at sight of his | greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.”<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble _again?_”</|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; | The Outcry |
--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. | No speaker | Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just | fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to | with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching | the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” | Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat | what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more | for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him _here?_” “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting Lord Theign, unattended, who, at sight of his daughter and her companion, pulled up and held them a minute in reprehensive view--all at least | bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_”<|quote|>--she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.</|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically | The Outcry |
“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!” | Bender | but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, | Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way | her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her | the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A | Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, | it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” | “He calls, you see, on _you_, my lady--at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting Lord Theign, unattended, who, at sight of his daughter and her companion, pulled up and held them a minute in reprehensive view--all at least till Hugh undauntedly, indeed quite cheerfully, greeted him. “Since you find | my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect.<|quote|>“Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”</|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. “Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was | The Outcry |
Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him. | No speaker | man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” | Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She | face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once | infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate | him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the | the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she | desired me so to put it you.” “He’s very kind, but” --she took in her condition-- “I’m not even _dressed!_” “You’ll have time” --the young man was a comfort-- “while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender--though it’s so near--if I just bag your car.” “That’s, that’s it, take his car!” --Lady Sandgate almost swept him away. “You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed-- “but what I want to know is what the man’s _after_.” “The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask. “The Prince then--if you allow he _is_ a man! Is he after my picture?” Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.” “Oh why should he ‘wait’?” burst from their cautious companion--only to be caught up, however, in the next breath, so swift her gracious revolution. “Wait, wait indeed, Mr. Bender--I won’t give you up for any Prince!” With which she appealed again to Lord John. “He wants to ‘congratulate’?” “On Theign’s decision, as I’ve told you--which I announced to Mackintosh, by Theign’s extraordinary order, under his Highness’s nose, and which his Highness, by the same token, took up like a shot.” Her face, as she bethought herself, was convulsed as by some quick perception of what her informant must have done and what therefore the Prince’s interest rested on; all, however, to the effect, given their actual company, of her at once dodging and covering that issue. “The decision to remove the picture?” Lord John also observed a discretion. “He wouldn’t hear of such a thing--says it must stay stock still. So there you are!” This determined in Mr. Bender a not unnatural, in fact quite a clamorous, series of questions. “But _where_ are we, and what has the Prince to do with Lord Theign’s decision when that’s all _I’m_ here for? What in thunder _is_ Lord Theign’s decision--what was his ‘extraordinary order’?” Lord John, too long detained and his hand now on the door, put off this solicitor as he had already been put off. “Lady Sandgate, _you_ tell him! I rush!” Mr. Bender saw him vanish, but all to a greater bewilderment. “What the h---- then (I beg your pardon!) is he talking about, and what ‘sentiments’ did he report round there that Lord Theign had been expressing?” His hostess faced it not otherwise than if she had resolved not to recognise the subject of his curiosity--for fear of other recognitions. “They put everything on _me_, my dear man--but I haven’t the least idea.” He looked at her askance. “Then why does the fellow say you have?” Much at a loss for the moment, she yet found her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, even with such a leg up, rise to my level or seize my point. And if you really want to know,” Hugh went on in his gladness, “what for _us_ has most particularly and preciously taken place, it is that in his opinion, for my career--” “Your reputation,” she cried, “blazes out and your fortune’s made?” He did a happy violence to his modesty. “Well, Bardi adores intelligence and takes off his hat to me.” “Then you need take off yours to nobody!” --such was Lady Grace’s proud opinion. “But I should like to take off mine to _him_,” she added; “which I seem to have put on--to get out and away with you--expressly for that.” Hugh, as he looked her over, took it up in bliss. “Ah, we’ll go forth together to him then--thanks to your happy, splendid impulse!--and you’ll back him gorgeously up in the good he thinks of me.” His friend yet had on this a sombre second thought. “The only thing is that our awful American----!” But he warned her with a raised hand. “Not to speak of our awful Briton!” For the door had opened from the lobby, admitting Lord Theign, unattended, who, at sight of his daughter and her companion, pulled up and held them a minute in reprehensive view--all at least till Hugh undauntedly, indeed quite cheerfully, greeted him. “Since you find me again in your path, my lord, it’s because I’ve a small, | her way. “Because the fellow’s so agog that he doesn’t know _what_ he says!” In addition to which she was relieved by the reappearance of Gotch, who bore on a salver the object he had been sent for and to which he duly called attention. “The large red morocco case.” Lady Sandgate fairly jumped at it. “Your blessed cheque-book. Lay it on my desk,” she said to Gotch, though waiting till he had departed again before she resumed to her visitor: “Mightn’t we conclude before he comes?” “The Prince?” Mr. Bender’s imagination had strayed from the ground to which she sought to lead it back, and it but vaguely retraced its steps. “Will _he_ want your great-grandmother?” “Well, he may when he sees her!” Lady Sandgate laughed. “And Theign, when he comes, will give you on his own question, I feel sure, every information. Shall I fish it out for you?” she encouragingly asked, beside him by her secretary-desk, at which he had arrived under her persuasive guidance and where she sought solidly to establish him, opening out the gilded crimson case for his employ, so that he had but to help himself. “What enormous cheques! _You_ can never draw one for two-pound-ten!” “That’s exactly what you deserve I _should_ do!” He remained after this solemnly still, however, like some high-priest circled with ceremonies; in consonance with which, the next moment, both her hands held out to him the open and immaculate page of the oblong series much as they might have presented a royal infant at the christening-font. He failed, in his preoccupation, to receive it; so she placed it before him on the table, coming away with a brave gay “Well, I leave it to you!” She had not, restlessly revolving, kept her discreet distance for many minutes before she found herself almost face to face with the recurrent Gotch, upright at the door with a fresh announcement. “Mr. Crimble, please--for Lady Grace.” “Mr. Crimble _again?_” --she took it discomposedly. It reached Mr. Bender at the secretary, but to a different effect. “Mr. Crimble? Why he’s just the man I want to see!”<|quote|>Gotch, turning to the lobby, had only to make way for him.</|quote|>“Here he is, my lady.” “Then tell her ladyship.” “She has come down,” said Gotch while Hugh arrived and his companion withdrew, and while Lady Grace, reaching the scene from the other quarter, emerged in bright equipment--in her hat, scarf and gloves. IV These young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard--for your knock and your voice.” “Then know that, thank God, it’s all right!” --Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant. “A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried. “A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back. “A Mantovano!” --it carried even Lady Sandgate away. “A Mantovano--a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh. “I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man-- “who hasn’t the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.” “Will he publish it right here to _me?_” Mr. Bender hungrily asked. “Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.” “But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat “Where _is_ he, hey?” “Don’t you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered. “Won’t you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child--though you’re lovely!--are you sure you’re ready for him?” “For the Prince!” --the girl was vague. “Is he coming?” “At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it _is_ that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room. Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh: “It’s your blest Bardi I want first--I’ll take the Prince after.” The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long’s Hotel.” “Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender’s flight was on the wings of optimism. But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world’s happening?” “My father has suddenly returned--it may have to do with that.” The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn’t it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?” “I don’t know--and I think I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said, “so long as you’re right and as the greatest light of all declares you are.” “He _is_ the greatest” --Hugh was vividly of that opinion now: “I could see it as soon as I got there with him, the charming creature! There, _before_ the holy thing, and with the place, by good luck, for those great moments, practically to ourselves--without Macintosh to take in what was happening or any one else at all to speak of--it was but a matter of ten minutes: he had come, he had seen, and _I_ had conquered.” “Naturally you had!” --the girl hung on him for it; “and what was happening beyond everything else was that for your original dear divination, one of the divinations of genius--with every creature all these ages so stupid--you were being baptized on the spot a great man.” “Well, he did let poor Pappendick have it at least-he doesn’t think _he’s_ one: that that eminent judge couldn’t, | The Outcry |
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