Drake promised that he would not relate the little farce to his uncle,

and got her cloak and took her down to the Angleford carriage. As he put

her in and closed the door, she gave him her hand, and smiled at him

with a little air of triumph and appeal.

"We are friends, aren't we?" she asked.

"The best of friends, Lady Angleford," he replied. "Good night."

He went back to say good night to Lady Northgate.

"You played it rather low down upon me, didn't you?" he remarked.

"My dear Drake, what could I do?" she exclaimed. "That poor little woman

was so terribly anxious to gain your good will. She didn't understand in

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the least the harm she was doing you. And what will you do? She is

immensely rich--her father was an American millionaire----"

Drake's face hardened. One thing at least he knew he couldn't do: he

could not bring himself to accept charity from Lady Angleford. Lady

Northgate understood the frown.

"Don't kill me before all these people, Drake!" she said. "I dare say

it's very silly of me, but I can't help plotting for your welfare. You

see, I am foolish enough to be rather fond of you. There! Go down and

drink that soda and whisky with Harry. If you won't let your friends

help you, what will you do?"

"I give it up; ask me another. Don't you worry about me, my dear lady; I

shall jog along somehow."




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