'It's a wonderful match for dear old Claire,' resumed Lady
Wetherby, twisting the knife in the wound with a happy unconsciousness.
'Dudley's not only a corking good fellow, but he has thirty million
dollars stuffed away in the stocking and a business that brings him
in a perfectly awful mess of money every year. He's the Pickering of
the Pickering automobiles, you know.'
Bill got up. He stood for a moment holding to the back of his
chair before speaking. It was almost exactly thus that he had felt
in the days when he had gone in for boxing and had stopped
forceful swings with the more sensitive portions of his person.
'That--that's splendid!' he said. 'I--I think I'll be going.'
'I heard the car outside just now,' said Lady Wetherby. 'I think
it's probably Claire and Dudley come back. Won't you wait and see
her?'
Bill shook his head.
'Well, good-bye for the present, then. You must come round again.
Any friend of Claire's--and it was bully of you to bother about
looking in to tell of Eustace.'
Bill had reached the door. He was about to turn the handle when
someone turned it on the other side.
'Why, here is Dudley,' said Lady Wetherby. 'Dudley, this is a
friend of Claire's.'
Dudley Pickering was one of those men who take the ceremony of
introduction with a measured solemnity.
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