CHAPTER IX

"Ah! why should love, like men in drinking songs, Spice his fair banquet with the dust of earth?" Lord St. Maurice walked straight into his room without perceiving that it was already occupied. He flung his hat into a corner, and himself into an easy-chair, with an exclamation which was decidedly unparliamentary. "D--n!" he muttered. "That's a lively greeting," remarked a voice from the other end of the room. He looked quickly up. A tall figure loomed out of the shadows of the apartment, and presently resolved …