Surrender to Sin Read Free

Dulwich offered no protest.
    “What’s her name, this cousin of yours?” he inquired testily, dipping the pen in the well.
    “I’m not telling you her name, Pudding-face,” Cary said scornfully. “Write this: ‘The odious Lord Dulwich humbly extends his profoundest and most sniveling—!’”
    “Look here!”
    Cary ignored him. “‘ Most sniveling apologies to the young lady whom he so savagely assaulted in Piccadilly this afternoon. By his failure to offer any apology or assistance to her on that occasion, he has forfeited his right to call himself an English gentleman. Furthermore, his lordship does hereby attest and affirm that he is in fact the most feculent lout ever to disgrace the British empire. Yours in utter moral failure, et cetera, et cetera.’”
    “Look here!” Dulwich protested. “Can’t I give her ten pounds instead? Twenty?”
    “In my family, we don’t exchange currency for insults,” said Cary. “I need hardly tell you how the members of my Club will react if I tell them what you did. Besides, where would you get twenty pounds? Your father’s cut off your allowance, or so you said when you asked me to hold onto a certain I.O.U. just a little longer.”
    “For God’s sake, lower your voice!” Dulwich snarled.
    “Now sign and date it, if you please.” Cary took the scrap of paper from the Viscount, inspected it briefly, then seemed to forget all about the matter. “I’m looking for Tom Jones , my good fellow,” he pleasantly told the clerk. “Would you be so kind as to direct me to it?”
    “I was here first,” Dulwich objected. “I want Kubla Khan , and I want it now.” He rapped on the counter with his stick, and the unhappy Mr. Eldridge offered to put his lordship’s name on the waiting list. “List?” the Viscount demanded. “What list? Who’s on it?”
    “Quite a number of our best customers, my lord,” Mr. Eldridge replied. “Indeed, the demand has been so high that the publisher has already called for a second printing.”
    “Very well. Put me on your beastly list,” said Dulwich impatiently.
    “I’d no idea you were such a devotee of Mr. Coleridge,” Cary remarked.
    “I’m not,” his lordship growled. “I despise all poetry, and all poets too. But, unfortunately, my betrothed is rather excitable on the subject.”
    Cary laughed shortly. “Don’t tell me you’re engaged. Who is the poor creature? I should like to send her my condolences on black-edged paper.”
    “The lady is well aware of her good fortune,” his lordship coldly replied. “Look here, you fool! If the book arrives before January the Fourteenth, I shall buy it. If not, never mind.”
    “And what, pray, is the significance of January the Fourteenth?” Cary asked.
    “That is my wedding day,” Dulwich replied, “not that it’s any business of yours. I’ve no intention of wasting money buying my own damn wife a silly book.”
    “Very sensible of you,” said Cary. “And you say the lady is aware of her good fortune? Capital. Allow me to wish you joy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so deeply in love. Why, you’re positively radiant.”
    Dulwich’s face turned nearly black with fury. “I am not in love with her, you ass,” he hissed. “I want her father’s money, and she, I suppose, wants to be a viscountess. When we marry, I shall be able to settle all my debts, including that little bet of ours. Look here, Wayborn, if you start spreading it around that I’m marrying for love , I shall have to call you out.”
    “Steady on,” said Cary, stifling a laugh. “I shan’t tell a soul you’re after her money. After all, if you don’t get her money, I may never get mine .”
    “What are you doing there, you damn fool?” his lordship suddenly snarled.
    Abigail nearly jumped out of her skin. But Dulwich had not discovered her hiding place; he was addressing Mr. Eldridge. “Imbecile! You’re putting my name at the bottom of the list. Who is entitled to come before