Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. You know I call that positively wicked. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Some day I shall come back, and I will show you on canvas the things which have come to me up here amongst the eternal silence. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould.
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