However, Beaumont's habitual self-command came to his aid, and prevented him showing any irritation, when he stood on the Paddington platform at the window of a smoking carriage, wishing Reginald good-bye.
"I hope you have enjoyed your stay in London," he said heartily.
"So-so," answered Reginald wearily. "I cannot enjoy anything very much, knowing the circumstances of my birth."
"Nonsense! You'll soon forget all about that."
"I don't think so, unfortunately for myself I have not your happy facility for forgetting."
"Pshaw! You are rich, and gold hides everything."
"From the eyes of the world, yes; but not from a man's own sight--nobody knows but the wearer where the shoe pinches."
"If that is the case, let the wearer smile blandly and the world will never guess his shoe doesn't fit him--it's your fools, who wear their hearts on their sleeves, that get the worst word of everyone."
"And the wise man who conceals a vicious life gets the praise," said Blake bitterly. "What a delightful world."
"It's the best of all possible worlds," retorted Beaumont cynically. "I agree with M. Voltaire--besides, the world always takes you at your own valuation; smile, and it smiles; frown, and it looks grim; each man is a mirror to another, and gives back the reflection he receives."
"No doubt, but a very necessary philosophy," retorted Beaumont in a good-humoured tone; "it's ridiculous to bring the simplicity of Arcady to Rome. France tried it under the Fourteenth Louis, and the experiment ended in the guillotine and the Carmagnole."
The train was now moving off, so he shook hands with the young man through the open window of the carriage.
"Good-bye," said Reginald heartily, "when you come to Garsworth, I'll be glad to see you, my friend."
"Friend," echoed Beaumont with an evil smile, as the long train steamed away, "next time you see me it will be as your master."
Only a woman's heart--indeed; A sacred thing to you, you say, To me, a toy, with which to play. Ah, well, let each hold fast his creed.
What matter should it chance to bleed, Is it a man's cut finger?--nay, Only a woman's heart.
On ancient tales your fancies feed, When woman ruled in saintly way, But we have changed such things to-day. For, after all, what use to heed? Only a woman's heart.