"
The doctor laughed: "What the devil does it matter whether she forgives
you or not?"
"It matters a great deal."
"Why, you talk as if you were fond of her!"
"I am."
The doctor's clouded intelligence was beginning to clear; he made a
smart reply: "Fond of her, and deceiving her--aha!"
"Yes," she said quietly, "that's just what it is. It has grown on me,
little by little; I can't help liking Miss Henley."
"Well," Mr. Vimpany remarked, "you _are_ a fool!" He looked at her
cunningly. "Suppose I do make myself useful, what am I to gain by it?"
"Let us get back," she suggested, "to the gentleman who invited you to
dinner, and made you tipsy for his own purposes."
"I'll break every bone in his skin!"
"Don't talk nonsense! Leave Mr. Mountjoy to me."
"Do _you_ take his part? I can tell you this. If I drank too much of
that poisonous French stuff, Mountjoy set me the example. He was
tipsy--as you call it--shamefully tipsy, I give you my word of honour.
What's the matter now?"
His wife (so impenetrably cool, thus far) had suddenly become excited.
There was not the smallest fragment of truth in what he had just said
of Hugh, and Mrs. Vimpany was not for a moment deceived by it.
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