I
don't like to break it to him--I don't really, now. But it's all up with
his chance, I think. Those private theatricals at Fallowfield have done
Farintosh's business. He used to rave about the Newcomes to me, as we
were riding home from hunting. He gave Bob Henchman the lie, who told a
story which Bob got from his man, who had it from Miss Newcome's
lady's-maid, about--about some journey to Brighton, which the cousins
took." Here Mr. Crackthorpe grinned most facetiously. "Farintosh swore
he'd knock Henchman down; and vows he will be the death of--will murder
our friend Clive when he comes to town. As for Henchman, he was in a
desperate way. He lives on the Marquis, you know, and Farintosh's anger
or his marriage will be the loss of free quarters, and ever so many good
dinners a year to him." I did not deem it necessary to impart
Crackthorpe's story to Clive, or explain to him the reason why Lord
Farintosh scowled most fiercely upon the young painter, and passed him
without any other sign of recognition one day as Clive and I were walking
together in Pall Mall.
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