you reside at the Manor, and I am at Transome Court."
"Ah! it's a thousand pities you're not on our side, else we might have dined together at the Marquis," said Christian. "Eh, could you manage it?" he added, languidly, knowing there was no chance of a yes.
"No—much obliged—couldn't leave the leetle boy. Ahi! Arry, Arry, pinch not poor Moro."
While Dominic was answering, Christian had stared about him, as his manner was when he was being spoken to, and had had his eyes arrested by Esther, who was leaning forward to look at Mr Harold Transome's extraordinary little gipsy of a son. But happening to meet Christian's stare, she felt annoyed, drew back, and turned away her head, colouring.
"Who are those ladies?" said Christian, in a low tone, to Dominic, as if he had been startled into a sudden wish for this information.
"They are Meester Jermyn's daughters," said Dominic, who knew nothing either of the lawyer's family or of Esther.
Christian looked puzzled a moment or two, and was silent.
