Lady Harriet liked John Fanshaw. She called him John and, though he did not quite venture to reciprocate the familiarity, he felt that it gave him a position in dealing with her. Also he thought her a very handsome woman; and since she was aware of this, there was another desirable element in their acquaintance. And he thought that he knew how to manage women—he was sure he would not have made such a bad job of it as poor Tom had. So he went in without any fear, and found justification in the cordiality of his welcome. Indeed the welcome was too cordial, inasmuch as it was based on an erroneous notion.
"You're the very man of all men I wanted to see! I was thinking of sending for you. Come and sit down, John, and I'll tell you all about it."
"But I know all about it," he protested, "and I want to have a talk to you."
"Nobody can know but me; and I believe you're the best friend I have. I want to tell you everything and take your advice how I'm to act."
Evidently she didn't suppose that he was in any sense an ambassador from her husband. He was to be her friend. John found it difficult to correct this mistake of hers.
"I'm at the end of my patience," she said solemnly. "I'm sure anybody would be. You know what's happening as well as I do, and I intend to put an end to it."
"Oh, don't say that! I—well, I'm here just to prevent you from saying that."
"To prevent me? You know what's happening? Do you know he's staying away from home again? What do the servants think? What must the children begin to think? Am I to be exposed to that?"
She looked very handsome and spirited, with just the right amount of colour in her cheeks and an animated sparkle in her eyes.
"Why, I could name the woman!" she exclaimed. "And so could you, I daresay?"