“In the event of any Desire on Yr Part to hazard Yr Luck with my late Paramour, Permit Me to warn You ’gainst the Bantam Brother, who is in Very Truth a Fire-Eater, and would wish to make of You, as of Me, one Mouthfull. I shall hope to see You at the Queensberry Rout on Thursday, when You may Once More strive to direct mine Erring Footsteps on to the Thorny Path of Virtue.”
His Grace read the postscript through with another satisfied, sardonic smile. Then he folded the letter, and affixing a wafer, peremptorily struck the hand-bell at his side.
And the Honourable Frank Fortescue, reading the postscript half-an-hour later, smiled too, but differently. Also he sighed and put the letter into the fire.
“And so ends another affaire. … I wonder if you’ll go insolently to the very end?” he said softly, watching the paper shrivel and flare up. “I would to God you might fall honestly in love—and that the lady might save you from yourself—my poor Devil!”
