“How can I help it? Such a horrible, horrible story—and the poor body lying there still—hardly your own age, Richard. ... This man!—it makes me ill to think I have spoken to him—touched him in passing, perhaps. What are you going to do?”
“What does that matter to you, cry-baby?”
“I thought we were married, Richard. Make me shut my eyes again.”
“No, keep them open. You put me in such an ecstasy. What ought I to do?”
“I don’t think you ought to do anything. It is Uncle Charlie’s business.”
“Well, he just wants to pay the man to go away and hold his tongue, and, because I don’t see it in that light, has rather quarrelled with me.”
“It is infamous. Why should you be expected to incur any risk or danger? Richard, don’t dare this dreadful man on your own account—O, don’t, Richard!”
“I will be very careful. Shall I tell you what I had thought of doing?”
“What?”
“Going straight to Johnny Dando, and getting him to help me.”