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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Woman-Hater"

Lord
Uxmoor gave us all up for a sick friend. Mr. Severne did more, perhaps;
for he lost that divine singer. You will never hear her now, Mr.
Severne."
The Maitland gun went off: "A sick friend! Mr. Severne? Ha, ha, ha! You
silly girl, he has got no sick friend. He was at the gaming-table. That
was his sick friend."
It was an effective discharge. It winged a duck or two. It killed, as
follows: the tranquillity--the good humor--and the content of the little
party.
Severne started, and stared, and lost color, and then cast at Vizard a
venomous look never seen on his face before; for he naturally concluded
that Vizard had betrayed him.
Zoe was amazed, looked instantly at Severne, saw it was true, and turned
pale at his evident discomfiture. Her lover had been guilty of
deceit--mean and rather heartless deceit.
Even Fanny winced at the pointblank denunciation of a young man, who was
himself polite to everybody. She would have done it in a very different
way--insinuations, innuendo, etc.
"They have found you out, old fellow," said Vizard, merrily; "but you
need not look as if you had robbed a church. Hang it all! a fellow has
got a right to gamble, if he chooses.


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