‘Your lordship has not won her yet,’ was the churlish answer.

‘But she has said it, I tell you.  She said she’d have me.’

‘She won’t be the first woman has altered her mind, nor the last,’ Mr. Pomeroy retorted with an oath.  ’You may be amazing sure of that, my lord.’  And muttering something about a woman and a fool being near akin, he spurned a dog out of his way, overset a chair, and strode cursing from the room.

Lord Almeric stared after him, his face a queer mixture of vanity and dismay.  At last, ‘Strikes me, Tommy, he’s uncommon hard hit,’ he said, with a simper.  ‘He must have made surprising sure of her.  Ah!’ he continued with a chuckle, as he passed his hand delicately over his well-curled wig, and glanced at a narrow black-framed mirror that stood between the windows.  ’He is a bit too old for the women, is Pom.  They run to something lighter in hand.  Besides, there’s a—­a way with the pretty creatures, if you take me, and Pom has not got it.  Now I flatter myself I have, Tommy, and Julia—­it is a sweet name, Julia, don’t you think?—­Julia is of that way of thinking.  Lord!  I know women,’ his lordship continued, beaming the happier the longer he talked.  ’It is not what a man has, or what he has done, or even his taste in a coat or a wig—­though, mind you, a French friseur does a deal to help men to bonnes fortunes—­but it is a sort of a way one has.  The silly creatures cannot stand against it.’

Mr. Thomasson hastened to agree, and to vouch her future ladyship’s flame in proof of my lord’s prowess.  But the tutor was a timid man; and the more perfect the contentment with which he viewed the turn things had taken, and the more nearly within his grasp seemed his five thousand, the graver was the misgiving with which he regarded Mr. Pomeroy’s attitude.  He had no notion what shape that gentleman’s hostility might take, nor how far his truculence might aspire.  But he guessed that Lord Almeric’s victory had convinced the elder man that his task would have been easy had the cards favoured him; and when a little later in the day he saw Pomeroy walking in the park in the drenching rain, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his wrap-rascal and his chin bent on his breast, he trembled.  He knew that when men of Mr. Pomeroy’s class take to thinking, some one is likely to lose.

At dinner the tutor’s fears were temporarily lulled.  Mr. Pomeroy put in a sulky appearance, but his gloom, it was presently manifest, was due to the burden of an apology; which, being lamely offered and readily accepted, he relapsed into his ordinary brusque and reckless mood, swearing that they would have the lady down and drink her, or if that were not pleasing, ‘Damme, we’ll drink her any way!’ he continued.  ’I was a toad this morning.  No offence meant, my lord.  Lover’s license, you know.  You can afford to be generous, having won the pool.’

‘And the maid,’ my lord said with a simper.  ’Burn me! you are a good fellow, Pom.  Give me your hand.  You shall see her after dinner.  She said to-morrow; but, hang me!  I’ll to her this evening.’