‘It was a piece of the oddest luck,’ Mr. Thomasson answered, smirking, and not in the least comprehending the other’s feeling.  ’He was lodged in Magdalen yesterday; this morning a messenger was despatched to Pembroke for clothes and such-like for him.  The girl’s mother has always nursed in Pembroke, and they sent for her to help.  But she was that minute home from the burial, and would not go.  Then up steps the girl and “I’ll go,” says she—­heaven knows why or what took her, except the contrariness of woman.  However, there she is!  D’ye see?’ And Mr. Thomasson winked.

‘Tommy,’ said Sir George, staring at him, ’I see that you’re a d—­d rascal!’

The tutor, easy and smiling, protested.  ‘Fie, Sir George,’ he said.  ’What harm is in it?  To tend the sick, my dear sir, is a holy office.  And if in this case harm come of it—­’ and he spread out his hands and paused.

‘As you know it will,’ Sir George cried impulsively.

But Mr. Thomasson shrugged his shoulders.  ’On the contrary, I know nothing,’ he answered.  ’But—­if it does, Mr. Dunborough’s position is such that—­hem!  Well, we are men of the world, Sir George, and the girl might do worse.’

Sir George had heard the sentiment before, and without debate or protest.  Now it disgusted him.  ‘Faugh, man!’ he said, rising.  ’Have done!  You sicken me.  Go and bore Lord Almeric—­if he has not gone to Paris to save his ridiculous skin!’

But Mr. Thomasson, who had borne abuse of himself with Christian meekness, could not hear that unmoved.  ’My dear Sir George, my dear friend,’ he urged very seriously, and with a shocked face, ’you should not say things like that of his lordship.  You really should not!  My lord is a most excellent and—­’

‘Pure ass!’ said Soane with irritation.  ’And I wish you would go and divert him instead of boring me.’

‘Dear, dear, Sir George!’ Mr. Thomasson wailed.  ’But you do not mean it?  And I brought you such good news, as I thought.  One might—­one really might suppose that you wished our poor friend the worst.’

‘I wish him no worse a friend!’ Sir George responded sharply; and then, heedless of his visitor’s protestations and excuses and offers of assistance, would see him to the door.

It was more easy, however, to be rid of him—­the fine gentleman of the time standing on scant ceremony with his inferiors—­than of the annoyance, the smart, the vexation, his news left behind him.  Sir George was not in love.  He would have laughed at the notion.  The girl was absolutely and immeasurably below him; a girl of the people.  He had seen her once only.  In reason, therefore—­and polite good breeding enforced the demand—­he should have viewed Mr. Dunborough’s conquest with easy indifference, and complimented him with a jest founded on the prowess of Mars and the smiles of Venus.