Secret, indeed!' and he whistled a bar or two contemptuously,
which subsided into dejected silence, and he muttered, 'I wish I knew
it,' and walked over the bridge gloomily; and he roared more fiercely on
smaller occasions than usual at his dogs on the way home, and they
squalled oftener and louder.
Now, for some reason or other, Dangerfield had watched the growing
intimacy between Mervyn and Miss Gertrude Chattesworth with an evil eye.
He certainly did know something about this Mr. Mervyn, with his
beautiful sketches, and his talk about Italy, and his fine music. And
his own spectacles had carefully surveyed Miss Chattesworth, and she had
passed the ordeal satisfactorily. And Dangerfield thought, 'These people
can't possibly suspect the actual state of the case, and who and what
this gentleman is _to my certain knowledge_; and 'tis a pity so fine a
young lady should be sacrificed for want of a word spoken in season.'
And when he had decided upon a point, it was not easy to make him stop
or swerve.
CHAPTER XXII.
TELLING HOW MR. MERVYN FARED AT BELMONT, AND OF A PLEASANT LITTLE
DEJEUNER BY THE MARGIN OF THE LIFFEY.
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