"You did; you always do," said Drake. "It was quite irresistible."
Lord Northgate, who was the "Harry" alluded to, came up and gave Drake a
warm grip of the hand.
"What the deuce are you doing here?" he asked. "Thought you were
shooting down at Monkwell's place, or somewhere. Jolly glad Lucy didn't
take my bet. And where have you been?"
"With the Devon and Somerset," replied Drake, with partial truth.
"Wish I had!" grumbled Northgate. "Kept at the Office." He was in the
Cabinet. "There's always some beastly row, or little war, just going on
when one wants to get at the salmon or the grouse. I declare to goodness
that I work like a nigger and get nothing but kicks for halfpence! I'd
chuck politics to-morrow if it weren't for Lucy; and why on earth she
likes to be shut in town, and sweltering in hot rooms, playing this kind
of game, I can't imagine."
"But then you haven't a strong imagination, Harry, dear," said his wife
pleasantly.
"I've got a strong thirst on me," said Northgate, "and a still stronger
desire to cut this show. Come down to the smoking room and have a cigar
presently, old chap."
Drake knew that this was equivalent to saying, "I'm sorry for you, old
man!" and nodded comprehendingly.
"You're looking very well, Drake," said Lady Northgate, as her husband,
struggling with a fearful yawn, sauntered away. "And not at all
unhappy."
Drake shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the use? Of course, it's a bad business for me; but all the
yowling in the world wouldn't better it. What can't be cured must be
endured."
Lady Northgate nodded at him approvingly.
"I knew you'd take it like this," she said. "You won't go down to Harry
for a little while?"
"Oh, no," said Drake, with a smile. "I'm going the round; I'm not going
to shirk it."
He was one of the most popular men in London, and there were many in the
room who really sympathized with and were sorry for him; and Drake, as
he exchanged greetings with one and another, felt that the thing hadn't
been so bad, after all. He made this consoling reflection as he leaned
against the wall beside a chair in which sat a lady whom he did not
know, and at whom he had scarcely glanced; and he was roused from his
reverie by her saying: "May I venture to trouble you to put this glass down?"