LIPPA
A NOVEL
BY
BEATRICE EGERTON
London
EDEN, REMINGTON & CO., PUBLISHERSKING STREET, COVENT GARDEN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
[Transcriber's Note: Chapter numbering is as in the original text,so there are two Chapter XIs.]
CHAPTER I
A stage where every man must play a part.'
It is four o'clock, and —— Street is wearing a very desertedappearance although it is July. The cab-drivers are more or less fastasleep in attitudes far from suggesting comfort, the sentries on guardat —— Palace look almost suffocated in their bearskins, and acomparative quiet is reigning over the great metropolis.
'Do you know, Helmdon,' says Jimmy Dalrymple. 'I'm nearly done;' thesetwo are seated in the bow window of a well-known club.
'You don't mean it, what!' replies Helmdon, better known as Chubby.
'I do, all the same,' says Jimmy, testily, 'heat, money, everything, infact!'
'That comes of racing, my good boy,' this from Chubby, in a sort ofI-told-you-so tone.
'For Heaven's sake don't begin lecturing,' says Dalrymple, 'it doesn'tsuit you, and how in the name of fortune could the heat come from myracing. Chubby, you're an ass!' and really, J. Dalrymple of the Guardsis not far wrong, for the said Chubby, otherwise Lord Helmdon does lookrather foolish half leaning half sitting on the back of a chair, hishat well at the back of his head (why it remains there is a mystery),his reddish hair very dishevelled, his face on a broad grin while hewatches with deep interest two dogs fighting in the street below.
Dalrymple receiving no answer to his complimentary speech, gives vent toa yawn, and sends for a brandy and soda.
'Eh what!' says Chubby, suddenly, and à propos of nothing; by thistime the dogs have been separated. 'Didn't you speak just now?'
'Well, yes,' replies Dalrymple, 'I merely observed that you were anass.'
'Thanks, awfully, but why did it strike you just now?' asks LordHelmdon, sweetly.
'Don't know, I'm sure—'
'Ah! I thought so, but look here, why are you so down in the mouth,there's something up I'm sure,' and Chubby scrutinises his friendgravely.
'Nothing's up,' says Jimmy, 'but I've got into a confounded businesswith Harkness over that mare of his, that ought to have run in the Oaks,I've laid more than I've got, against her winning the Ledger, and Idon't know what on earth to do—'
'Do nothing,' says Helmdon, 'it'll all shake down somehow, and theLedger's weeks off—'
Jimmy grunts an assent, and then rising says, 'I'm off to tea at BrookStreet and the Park afterwards.'
'You'll probably find me there,' replies Helmdon, settling himselfcomfortably for a nap. While Dalrymple walks out of the Club and turnsin the direction of Brook Street. He has not gone far when he isovertaken by a man who greets him with: 'Where are you going to, mypretty maid?'
'I'm on my way to the Park,' replies Dalrymple, smiling, 'only I thoughtof stopping at your sister's on the way. Where are you bound for?'
'There too,' answers his companion, who, save for his drooping fairmoustache would better deserve to be called a 'pretty maid.' 'Mabel hasa sm