If
she's been once to his studio, she's been twenty times--to give
him sittings as they call it. He's making a pretty penny of it, I'll
be bound! I wonder he has the cheek to show himself when my lady
treats him so haughtily. But those sort of people have no proper
feelin's, you see: it's not to be expected of such."
Wallis liked the sound of his own sentences, and a great deal
more talk of similar character followed before they got back from
the tailor's. Malcolm was tired enough of him, and never felt
the difference between man and man more strongly than when, after
leaving him, he set out for a walk with Blue Peter, whom he found
waiting him at his lodging. On this same Blue Peter, however,
Wallis would have looked down from the height of his share of the
marquisate as one of the lower orders--ignorant, vulgar, even
dirty.
They had already gazed together upon not a few of the marvels of
London, but nothing had hitherto moved or drawn them so much as the
ordinary flow of the currents of life through the huge city. Upon
Malcolm, however, this had now begun to pall, while Peter already
found it worse than irksome, and longed for Scaurnose. At the same
time loyalty to Malcolm kept him from uttering a whisper of his
homesickness. It was yet but the fourth day they had been in London.
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