There was now no honest way of warning Taber that the net had been drawn. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. Besides, those things are deadly. And yet, dang it! I've seen 'em just as innocent looking that were prime vipers. Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases.
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