"And--and what next--Kate--by gad, a pretty speech, allow me to
congratulate you. How do, Trevalyon; at your old game of slaughtering
hearts?" The speaker had come from behind the curtains and was the
owner of the wrathful eyes; a heavily built man of medium weight, a
bold man with a handsome black beard, though the top of his head was
bald. "You were always a good shot, Trevalyon, when the target was a
heart," he repeated savagely.

"'Twas you, who bagged the delicate game, if I remember you aright,
Delrose," said Trevalyon, with the utmost _sang-froid_ as he leaned
backwards and with his right hand fondled his long tawny moustache.

"George Delrose, what makes you here? You are Lucifer himself, I
believe," said Mrs. Tompkins wrathfully, pushing his hand from her
shoulder and starting to her feet.

"I gave strict orders to Peter to admit no one to my presence. I shall
discharge Him, and at once."

"Take it easy, Kate, _I_ have _promoted_ him to _my_ service."

"From gold lo brass is no promotion; he knows not the value of
metals."

"Jove! how like they are, the same bold handsome style, reckless to
the last degree," thought Trevalyon.

"They are both a passport to society! all a man wants to-day! so, my
pretty Kate don't look so severe, I have one, you have the other,"