There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. Obey my orders, and you've nothing to fear. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in his demeanour. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes.
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