“Why not, why not! Now, what does it all mean? And which was the favoured one with her?”
“It was his Highness stayed longest.”
“His Highness!”
“So they called him. He looked a very nice tall gentleman, though over grave for my taste.”
“Yes.” Chesterfield’s manner had suddenly fallen ominously quiet. “I think I know whom you mean. And so he, the Duke, stayed longest, did he? And what became of the other?”
“O! he came out to me in the garden, whither I’d run after peeping.”
She saw it rising in him, and likened it in her own mind to a saucepan of milk coming to the boil. There was a flickering under the surface, and then a heave and rise, and the next moment it was overflowing with a tumultuous ebullition there was no stopping. Yet his voice maintained its intense suppression, only doubly envenomed.
“He came out to you, did he? I understand. Your particular friend, your particular pander to dishonourable royalty, came out to you, having effected his purpose of infamous procuration—to congratulate you and himself, I suppose, on the success of your joint villainy. So this is the solution of the mystery, and this your return for the hospitality you have received? Indeed my lady chooses her intimates cleverly.”
Now, Moll was a mischief-making naughtiness, and knew it; but no woman, however self-consciously guilty, can take abuse without recrimination.
“You suppose so? Do you, indeed?” she said. “And I say if you apply those names to me and Kit you’re a liar and a beast. A nice character you, upon my word, to call shame upon your lady for doing in all innocence what you are doing out of the wickedness of your soul every day of your life. She mustn’t entertain a great gentleman, mustn’t she; but you may practise your dissembling arts on her own friend, and think none the worse of yourself for it. Pander, forsooth! I throw the word back in your ugly teeth, as I throw your dirty attentions. I don’t want them, and I don’t want you!”