Mr. Vimpany is a bad man.
He is the very worst friend you could have about you at any time--and
especially at a time when your patience is tried by needy
circumstances."
"One word, Iris. The more eloquent you are, the more I admire you.
Only, don't mention my needy circumstances again."
She passed over the interruption as she had already passed over the
remonstrance, without taking notice of it.
"Dearest, you are always good to me," she continued gently. "Am I wrong
in thinking that love gives me some little influence over you still?
Women are vain--are they not?--and I am no better than the rest of
them. Flatter your wife's vanity, Harry, by attaching some importance
to her opinion. Is there time enough, yet, to telegraph to Mr. Vimpany?
Quite out of the question, is it? Well, then, if he must come here,
do--pray, pray do consider Me. Don't let him stay in the house! I'll
find a good excuse, and take a bedroom for him in the neighbourhood.
Anywhere else, so long as he is not here. He turns me cold when I think
of him, sleeping under the same roof with ourselves. Not with us! oh,
Harry, not with us!"
Her eyes eagerly searched her husband's face; she looked there for
indulgence, she looked for conviction.
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