“Hu-s-sh!” with a quick gesture of dismay.
“Well, I will ‘hu-s-sh!’ as you wish it; but it will be shouted on the housetops some day. How you have kept the secret for so long amazes me; even Wynne’s old friends don’t know of your existence. His own distant relations have actually reinstated him. They believe that he made a fool of himself with a penniless shop-girl or teacher, and is now a not disconsolate widower!”
This was a very nasty speech; but Mr. Jessop was in a bad humour. When he looked round this luxurious abode, and had seen Mrs. Wynne receiving homage and dispensing favours among a little court, and then recalled his old schoolfellow’s quarters, his ascetic life, his laborious days—his heart became hot within him.
“Why do you say such horrid things?” she asked petulantly.
“When did you see Laurence last?”
“I’ve not seen him for ages—centuries! Not since I dined with him in his chambers. I walked in and found him entertaining two men. Oh, I wish I could draw their faces!”
“I wish you could! I heard of that. You gave the staircase something to talk about. Laurence is on circuit now. I dined with him a couple of weeks ago. He is working very hard—too hard; but he won’t mind any one. I must say you are a pretty pair!”
“Thank you; it is not often that you pay me a compliment!” she returned, with a bend of her head.
“And Harry?”
“He is very well.”