Ormonde, then, was meditating on his undeserved misfortunes, when the
door was somewhat suddenly and vehemently pushed open, and Mrs. Ormonde
came in, her eyes sparkling, and evidently in some excitement.
"What's the matter?" asked her husband, not too amiably. "Has that
rascally, intruding fellow Liddell kicked the bucket?"
"No; but whom do you think I saw as I was leaving Mrs. Bennett's in Hyde
Park Square, you know?"
"How can I tell? The policeman perhaps."
"Nonsense, Duke! I had just come down the steps, and was turn turning
toward Paddington, for, as it was early, I thought I would take the
omnibus to Oxford Circus (see how careful I am!), when I saw a beautiful
dark brougham, drawn by splendid black horse--the coachman, the whole
turn-out, quite first rate--come at a dashing pace towards me. I
recognized Lord de Burgh inside, and who do you think was sitting beside
him?"
"God knows! The Saratoffski perhaps."
"Really, Ormonde, I am astonished at your mentioning that dreadful woman
to me.
"Oh! are you? Well, _who_ was De Burgh's companion?"
"Charlie! my Charlie! and Cis was on the front seat. Cis saw me, for he
clapped his hands and pointed as they flew past. What do you think of
that?"
"By George!" he exclaimed, in capital letters.
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