Sir John once more looked around him. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. dear. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.
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