Redworth stopped him.  ‘Did he say it in your presence?’

Sir Lukin was drawn-up by the harsh question.  ‘Well, no; not exactly.’  He tried to hesitate, but he was in the hot vein of a confidence and he wanted advice.  ’The cur said it to a woman—­hang the woman!  And she hates Diana Warwick:  I can’t tell why—­a regular snake’s hate.  By Jove! how women carp hate!’

‘Who is the woman?’ said Redworth.

Sir Lukin complained of the mob at his elbows.  ’I don’t like mentioning names here.’

A convenient open door of offices invited him to drag his receptacle, and possible counsellor, into the passage, where immediately he bethought him of a postponement of the distinct communication; but the vein was too hot.  ’I say, Redworth, I wish you’d dine with me.  Let’s drive up to my Club.—­Very well, two words.  And I warn you, I shall call him out, and make it appear it ’s about another woman, who’ll like nothing so much, if I know the Jezebel.  Some women are hussies, let ’em be handsome as houris.  And she’s a fire-ship; by heaven, she is!  Come, you’re a friend of my wife’s, but you’re a man of the world and my friend, and you know how fellows are tempted, Tom Redworth.—­Cur though he is, he’s likely to step out and receive a lesson.—­Well, he’s the favoured cavalier for the present . . . h’m . . .  Fryar-Gannett.  Swears he told her, circumstantially; and it was down at Lockton, when Diana Warwick was a girl.  Swears she’ll spit her venom at her, so that Diana Warwick shan’t hold her head up in London Society, what with that cur Wroxeter, Old Dannisburgh, and Dacier.  And it does count a list, doesn’t it? confound the handsome hag!  She’s jealous of a dark rival.  I’ve been down to Colonel Hartswood at the Tower, and he thinks Wroxeter deserves horsewhipping, and we may manage it.  I know you ’re dead against duelling; and so am I, on my honour.  But you see there are cases where a lady must be protected; and anything new, left to circulate against a lady who has been talked of twice—­Oh, by Jove! it must be stopped.  If she has a male friend on earth, it must be stopped on the spot.’

Redworth eyed Sir Lukin curiously through his wrath.

‘We’ll drive up to your Club,’ he said.

‘Hartswood dines with me this evening, to confer,’ rejoined Sir Lukin.  ‘Will you meet him?’

‘I can’t,’ said Redworth, ’I have to see a lady, whose affairs I have been attending to in the City; and I ’m engaged for the evening.  You perceive, my good fellow,’ he resumed, as they rolled along, ’this is a delicate business.  You have to consider your wife.  Mrs. Warwick’s, name won’t come up, but another woman’s will.’

’I meet Wroxeter at a gambling-house he frequents, and publicly call him cheat—­slap his face, if need be.’

‘Sure to!’ repeated Redworth.  ’No stupid pretext will quash the woman’s name.  Now, such a thing as a duel would give pain enough.’