"Y'll 'ave to clap a beefsteak on that ogle of
yours, where you napped the Dutchman's auctioneer, Byron. It's got
more yellow paint on it than y'll like to show in church to-morrow."
At this they all gave a roar of laughter, and entered a third-class
carriage. Lydia and Alice had but just time to take their places in
the train before it started.
"Eeally, I must say," said Alice, "that if those were Mr. Cashel
Byron's and Lord Worthington's associates, their tastes are very
peculiar."
"Yes," said Lydia, almost grimly. "I am a fair linguist; but I did
not understand a single sentence of their conversation, though I
heard it all distinctly."
"They were not gentlemen," said Alice. "You say that no one can tell
by a person's appearance whether he is a gentleman or not; but
surely you cannot think that those men are Lord Worthington's
equals."
"I do not," said Lydia. "They are ruffians; and Cashel Byron is the
most unmistakable ruffian of them all."
Alice, awestruck, did not venture to speak again until they left the
train at Victoria. There was a crowd outside the carriage in which
Cashel had travelled. They hastened past; but Lydia asked a guard
whether anything was the matter.
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