"Wouldn't it have been better to have a preceptress of more equable temper?" asked Grantley.
"Oh, there's nothing really wrong with Mumples; we're both awfully fond of her. Besides she's had such beastly hard luck. Hasn't Sibylla told you about that, Imason?"
"No, nothing."
"Her husband was sent to quod, you know—got twenty years."
"Twenty years! By Jingo!"
"Yes. He tried to murder a man—a man who had swindled him. Mumples says he did it all in a passion; but it seems to have been a cold sort of passion, because he waited twelve hours for him before he knifed him. And at the trial he couldn't even prove the swindling, so he got it pretty hot."
"Is he dead?"
"No, he's alive. He's to get out in about three years. Mumples is waiting for him."
"Poor old woman! Does she go and see him?"
"She used to. She hasn't for years now. I believe he won't have her—I don't know why. The governor was high sheriff's chaplain at the time, so he got to know Mumples, and took her on. She's been with us ever since, and she can stay as long as she likes."