"My dear," she said, nodding her head violently to herself in the glass, "all these people are too guileless and innocent to be of the slightest use to you. You are the only wicked one among them."
And then she thought she would go and consult her mother's old lover, Mr. Lewis Nathan, the clothes-seller. But she was frightened to leave the house with Mr. Weston in it, and no watchdog over him. Fortune befriended her, however, for over the breakfast-table Mr. Weston mentioned that business would take him away from them until the evening. Margaret's eyes sparkled.
"We shall be quite dull without you," she said.
She had so ingratiated herself into the old gentleman's good graces that he really believed her. Little did he suspect that he was nursing a serpent in his bosom. Margaret saw him safely off, and then, telling Lucy that she had business in town, put on her bonnet and shawl.
"What business, Maggy?" asked Lucy.
"I am going shopping," replied Margaret, with face of most unblushing innocence.
"Oh! I'll come with you," cried Lucy eagerly.
(I take the opportunity of parenthetically stating my belief that women like "shopping," even better than love-making.)
"I don't want you, my pet," said Margaret demurely; "I am going to meet my beau, and two is company, you know."
Away she posted to Mr. Lewis Nathan, who welcomed her right gladly.