"You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. . ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. I told him instantly and shamelessly that the play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. I am your servitor. “I thought that I heard a groan,” Anna whispered. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. ‘Don’t be silly. There is Lady Arlingford’s reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House ball, marked with a cross, sir, important. Where is Sebastianus? I am Rhea.
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