His Grace — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

62 HIS GRACE. “Mr. Gascoigne doesn’t hunt, then?” said I inter. rogatively. “He ?—Lord bless your soul, no! he wouldn’t risk his precious person in that way. Hecan shoot, or he thinks he can—well, I believe he zs a pretty fair shot. But he’s no sportsman, as I’ve taken the liberty of tell- ing him more than once.” From this and from other remarks which were made to me during the evening I was led to conclude that Mr. Gascoigne enjoyed no greater popularity amongst his equals in the county than he did amongst his in- feriors. Yet money is power, and if the men, or some of them, fought shy of him, the ladies appeared to like him very well. I watched him from the retired posi- tion which I had taken up in a corner of the ball-room, and I saw that the old women welcomed him eagerly, while such of the young ones as he was pleased to dance with evidently exerted themselves to earn his approval. He was, however, a bad dancer, and probably he did not care enough about any of the young ladies to ex- hibit himself under an unbecoming aspect for their benefit. Long before the supper hour he ceased to ad- venture himself in the throng and sauntered down the long room, pausing every now and again to address a few condescending words to this or that person among the lookers-on, until he reached the spot where I was standing, when he was good enough to lean against the wall by my side and enter into conversation. “Am I to compliment you upon this brilliant transformation scene, Mr. Martyn?” he inquired. “You are playing Mentor to Arthur’s Telemachus, I am told, and cer- tainly I can’t imagine that either he or his mother pos- sess the decorative skill of which we see so many evi- ¢com (@) boo <S (E(@) m =)