reproaches of his past self or of his forerunners.
"Sweet girl," he murmured, "forgive me. I was mad. I was under the
sway of a deplorable infatuation. It is past. See," he murmured with a
delicacy of feeling that justified the untruth, "I am come here for the
express purpose of undoing my impiety." And, turning to the club-waiter
who at this moment answered the bell, he said "Bring me a glass of port,
please, Barrett." Of sandwiches he said nothing.

At the word "See" he had stretched one hand towards Nellie; the other
he had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter some sort of hard
obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wondering what it might be, while
he gave his order to Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped his hand into
his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle he had borne away from
Mr. Druce's. He snatched out his watch: one o'clock!--fifteen minutes
overdue. Wildly he called the waiter back. "A tea-spoon, quick! No
port. A wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And--for I don't mind telling you,
Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond conjecture--take
lightning for your model. Go!"

Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse, well knowing
that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its action. He saw
himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would Barrett never come? "Every
two hours"--the directions were explicit. Had he delivered himself into
the gods' hands? The eyes of Nellie O'Mora were on him compassionately;
and all the eyes of his forerunners were on him in austere scorn: "See,"
they seemed to be saying, "the chastisement of last night's blasphemy."
Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.

In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the wine-glass the
Duke poured the draught of salvation, and then, raising it aloft, he
looked around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice cried "Gentlemen,
I give you Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch that ever was or will be."
He drained his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a double satisfaction,
dismissed with a glance the wondering Barrett, and sat down.

He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience. Her eyes
were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their sadness came of a
knowledge that she would never see him again. She seemed to be saying
to him "Had you lived in my day, it is you that I would have loved, not
Greddon." And he made silent answer, "Had you lived in my day, I should
have been Dobson-proof."