He was congratulating them when I stole away.
Hugh Murray.
[To himself.] If the poor girl should come face to face with Renshaw this morning!
[Hugh looks out of the window.]
Wilfrid Brudenell.
Come now, Mr. Murray, isn’t she sweet?
Hugh Murray.
Yes, yes. [This to himself.] She is crossing the Inn.
Wilfrid Brudenell.
And don’t you thank me for sending you such a pretty client?