"And lay myself in for all manner of damages," said Sir Griffin.
"There wouldn't be anything of that kind, I'm sure. You see, the truth is, you and Miss Roanoke are always having—having little tiffs together. I sometimes think you don't really care a bit for her."
"It's the old woman I'm complaining of," said Sir Griffin, "and I'm not going to marry her. I shall have seen the last of her when I get out of the church, Lady Eustace."
"Do you think she wishes it?"
"Who do you mean?" asked Sir Griffin.
"Why;—Lucinda."
"Of course she does. Where'd she be now if it wasn't to go on? I don't believe they've money enough between them to pay the rent of the house they're living in."
"Of course, I don't want to make difficulties, Sir Griffin, and no doubt the affair has gone very far now. But I really think Lucinda would consent to break it off if you wish it. I have never thought that you were really in love with her."
He again looked at her very sharply and very closely. "Has she sent you to say all this?"
"Has who sent me? Mrs. Carbuncle didn't."