"Jones won't do nothing of the kind," said Jones's careful wife.
"It would be no good if he did," said Brisket. "And, I'll tell you what it is, I'm not going to be made a fool of; I must know how it's to be at once, or I'm off." And he put out his hand as though to take up his hat.
"What fools you are!" said Maryanne, speaking from her chair in the corner. "There's not one of you knows George Robinson. Ask him to give his name to the bill, and he'll do it instantly."
"Who is it wants the name of George Robinson?" said the voice of that injured man, as at the moment he entered the room. "George Robinson is here." And then he looked round upon the assembled councillors, and his eyes rested at last with mingled scorn and sorrow upon the face of Maryanne Brown;—with mingled scorn and sorrow, but not with anger. "George Robinson is here; who wants his name?—and why?"
"Will you take a cup of tea, George?" said Mr. Brown, as soon as he was able to overcome his first dismay.
"Maryanne," said Robinson, "why is that man here?" and he pointed to Brisket.
"Ask them," said Maryanne, and she turned her face away from him, in towards the wall.
"Mr. Brown, why is he here? Why is your daughter's former lover here on the eve of her marriage with me?"
"I will answer that question, if you please," said Jones, stepping up.
"You!" And Robinson, looking at him from head to foot, silenced him with his look. "You answer me! From you I will take no answer in this matter. With you I will hold no parley on this subject. I have spoken to two whom I loved, and they have given me no reply. There is one here whom I do not love and he shall answer me. Mr. Brisket, though I have not loved you, I have believed you to be an honest man. Why are you here?"