"What fun!" she whispered. "Here's Lord Dredlinton, absolutely blotto!"
CHAPTER IX
Wingate from the first had a prescience of disagreeable things. There was
malice in Dredlinton's pallid face, the ugly twist of his lips and the
light in his bloodshot eyes. He paused opposite to them, and leaning his
hands on the back of the nearest chair, spoke across the table.
"Hullo, Flossie!" he exclaimed. "How are you, old dear? How are
you, Wingate?"
Wingate replied with cold civility, Flossie with a careless nod.
"I do hope," she whispered to her companion, glancing into the mirror
which she had just drawn from her bag, "that Lord Dredlinton isn't going
to be foolish. He does embarrass me so sometimes."
"I say," Dredlinton went on, "what are you doing here, Wingate? I didn't
know this sort of thing was in your line."
Wingate raised his eyebrows but made no response. Dredlinton shook his
head reproachfully at Miss Lane.
"Flossie," he continued, "you ought to know better. Besides, you will
waste your time. Mr. Wingate's taste in women is of a very--superior
order. Doesn't care about your sort at all. He likes saints. That's
right, isn't it, Wingate?"
"You seem to know," was the cool reply.
"Not 't tall sure," Dredlinton went on, balancing himself with
difficulty, "that your new conquest would altogether approve of this, you
know.
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