‘Why do you think I want a man ready to run to me with every move she makes?’ countered Gerald. The G. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. Mr. ‘You cannot be always with me.
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