"He quarrelled last night with Anthony Wilding." Ruth's hand went to her bosom; fear stared at Blake from out her eyes, blue as the heavens overhead; a grey shade overcast the usual warm pallor of her face.
"With Mr.Wilding ?" she cried.

"That man!" And though she said no more her eyes implored him to go on, and tell her what more there might be.
He did so, and he spared not Wilding.

The task, indeed, was one to which he applied himself with a certain zest; whatever might be the outcome of the affair, there was no denying that he was by way of reaping profit from it by the final overthrow of an acknowledged rival.

And when he told her how Richard had flung his wine in Wilding's face when Wilding stood to toast her, a faint flush crept to her cheeks.
"Richard did well," said she.

"I am proud of him." The words pleased Sir Rowland vastly; but he reckoned without Diana.
Miss Horton's mind was illumined by her knowledge of herself.