He wanted to pounce on Bartley, or Hope, or both.
Then he argued thus: "Bartley has got lots of money now, or he would not have given up business.

Ten to one he lives in London, or visits it.

I will try the Park." Well, he did try the Park, both at the riding hour and the driving hour.
He saw no Bartley at either time.
But one day in the Lady's Mile, as he listlessly watched the carriages defile slowly past him, with every now and then a jam, there crawled past him a smart victoria, and in it a beautiful woman with glorious dark eyes, and a lovely little boy, the very image of her.

It was his wife and her son.
Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition.

She bowed, but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to her with marked respect.
"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in question.