"Had you not better give Miss Briggs a glass of wine?"said the person to Mr. Bowls, the large confidential man. He did so. Briggs seized it mechanically, gasped it down convulsively, moaned a little, and began to play with the chicken on her plate.
"I think we shall be able to help each other," said the person with great suavity: "and shall have no need of Mr. Bowls's kind services. Mr. Bowls, if you please,we will ring when we want you." He went downstairs,where, by the way, he vented the most horrid curses upon the unoffending footman, his subordinate.