" By George, he must
remember that for old Welbore. And now he came to think of it, old Jack
Etherington had come in one morning full of Percival's daughter--"A lovely
gal"--he had said, that old Jack--"colour of a Mildred Grant--quiet as the
truth."
Such were the ruminations of Cyrus Worthington at his own garden-party,
and he pursued them at favoured moments--with his glass of port at
dessert, with his last cigar, with his whisky night-cap. In the city next
day he rallied Thomas Welbore, who betrayed unlimited relish for the
diversion; and within a few days more he left a card in Charles Street and
took a late train to Walton-on-Thames. Asked in due course to dinner, he
handed Sanchia to the table, and spent the evening by her side. He begged
her better acquaintance with his daughters, made the most of that which he
had with Melusine Scales, and ended a successful adventure by winning Lady
Maria's acceptance "for herself and her young friend," of a banquet at the
Cooper's Company of which he was warden. The occasion was a great one-a
foreign potentate, the Prime Minister, Lord Mayor, and Sheriffs. The
Coopers were to distinguish themselves, or be extinguished. He could
promise them of the best.
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