"Nobody ever does. He may chance to fall in love with the girl who has money."
"I doubt it."
"Well, all I have to say is that Nigel will not marry Ethel Elvey!"
"Nobody can tell yet."
"He will not, my good lady!" Mr. Carden-Cox was always strengthened in his opinion by opposition. "You mark my words! He may or may not marry Fulvia. He will not marry Ethel."
Fulvia was wide awake now; stupefied no longer; her head burning, her blood coursing wildly. She knew she ought to speak, but how could she?—How betray that she had heard so much?
"However," pursued Mr. Carden-Cox, as if dismissing the subject, "however, I was telling you about Nigel's hurts."
"Much burnt, you say?"
"Right palm a mass of blisters, chafed by the rope. Couldn't think what made him sit through tea-time, doing nothing! Not like Nigel! Daisy wouldn't have told—little monkey—but he betrayed himself getting on board. Stumbled and grasped at something, and I saw his face. I should never have guessed otherwise. Anice wailed, of course; and Daisy was most womanful—actually had had the sense to take with her some rag and linseed oil. She did up the hand as nattily as could be. There's some stuff in that girl, I do believe. Hallo!"
For Fulvia sat up, asking, "Is Nigel hurt?"