Wingate from the first had a prescience of disagreeable things.

There was malice in Dredlinton's pallid face, the ugly twist of his lips and the light in his bloodshot eyes.

He paused opposite to them, and leaning his hands on the back of the nearest chair, spoke across the table.
"Hullo, Flossie!" he exclaimed.

"How are you, old dear?
How are you, Wingate ?" Wingate replied with cold civility, Flossie with a careless nod.
"I do hope," she whispered to her companion, glancing into the mirror which she had just drawn from her bag, "that Lord Dredlinton isn't going to be foolish.

He does embarrass me so sometimes." "I say," Dredlinton went on, "what are you doing here, Wingate?
I didn't know this sort of thing was in your line." Wingate raised his eyebrows but made no response.