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"
I
take
your
three
to
two
,
"
here
said
Rawdon
,
at
the
card-table
.
"
Hark
at
Meliboeus
,
"
snarled
the
noble
marquis
;
"
he
's
pastorally
occupied
too
:
he
's
shearing
a
Southdown
.
What
an
innocent
mutton
,
hey
?
Damme
,
what
a
snowy
fleece
!
"
Rebecca
's
eyes
shot
out
gleams
of
scornful
humour
.
"
My
lord
,
"
she
said
,
"
you
are
a
knight
of
the
Order
.
"
He
had
the
collar
round
his
neck
,
indeed
--
a
gift
of
the
restored
princes
of
Spain
.
Lord
Steyne
in
early
life
had
been
notorious
for
his
daring
and
his
success
at
play
.
He
had
sat
up
two
days
and
two
nights
with
Mr.
Fox
at
hazard
.
He
had
won
money
of
the
most
august
personages
of
the
realm
:
he
had
won
his
marquisate
,
it
was
said
,
at
the
gaming-table
;
but
he
did
not
like
an
allusion
to
those
bygone
fredaines
.
Rebecca
saw
the
scowl
gathering
over
his
heavy
brow
.
She
rose
up
from
her
sofa
and
went
and
took
his
coffee
cup
out
of
his
hand
with
a
little
curtsey
.
"
Yes
,
"
she
said
,
"
I
must
get
a
watchdog
.
But
he
wo
n't
bark
at
YOU
.
"
And
,
going
into
the
other
drawing-room
,
she
sat
down
to
the
piano
and
began
to
sing
little
French
songs
in
such
a
charming
,
thrilling
voice
that
the
mollified
nobleman
speedily
followed
her
into
that
chamber
,
and
might
be
seen
nodding
his
head
and
bowing
time
over
her
.
Rawdon
and
his
friend
meanwhile
played
ecarte
until
they
had
enough
.
The
Colonel
won
;
but
,
say
that
he
won
ever
so
much
and
often
,
nights
like
these
,
which
occurred
many
times
in
the
week
--
his
wife
having
all
the
talk
and
all
the
admiration
,
and
he
sitting
silent
without
the
circle
,
not
comprehending
a
word
of
the
jokes
,
the
allusions
,
the
mystical
language
within
--
must
have
been
rather
wearisome
to
the
ex-dragoon
.
"
How
is
Mrs.
Crawley
's
husband
?
"
Lord
Steyne
used
to
say
to
him
by
way
of
a
good
day
when
they
met
;
and
indeed
that
was
now
his
avocation
in
life
.
He
was
Colonel
Crawley
no
more
.
He
was
Mrs.
Crawley
's
husband
.
About
the
little
Rawdon
,
if
nothing
has
been
said
all
this
while
,
it
is
because
he
is
hidden
upstairs
in
a
garret
somewhere
,
or
has
crawled
below
into
the
kitchen
for
companionship
.
His
mother
scarcely
ever
took
notice
of
him
.
He
passed
the
days
with
his
French
bonne
as
long
as
that
domestic
remained
in
Mr.
Crawley
's
family
,
and
when
the
Frenchwoman
went
away
,
the
little
fellow
,
howling
in
the
loneliness
of
the
night
,
had
compassion
taken
on
him
by
a
housemaid
,
who
took
him
out
of
his
solitary
nursery
into
her
bed
in
the
garret
hard
by
and
comforted
him
.
Rebecca
,
my
Lord
Steyne
,
and
one
or
two
more
were
in
the
drawing-room
taking
tea
after
the
opera
,
when
this
shouting
was
heard
overhead
.
"
It
's
my
cherub
crying
for
his
nurse
,
"
she
said
.
She
did
not
offer
to
move
to
go
and
see
the
child
.
"
Do
n't
agitate
your
feelings
by
going
to
look
for
him
,
"
said
Lord
Steyne
sardonically
.
"
Bah
!
"
replied
the
other
,
with
a
sort
of
blush
,
"
he
'll
cry
himself
to
sleep
"
;
and
they
fell
to
talking
about
the
opera
.
