Much confused, Uncle Jenico did.
“Ho!” she exclaimed, with decision. “Well, I must believe my ears for the future, I suppose, when they accuses me of curihosity, and pryingness into things which people no doubt has their very good reasons for keeping dark, and not becoming to a decent woman to pollute herself with hearing. I thank you for your consideration, Mr. Paxton, venturing to remark honly as it were uncalled for; me being the last person to worrit herself about her neighbour’s concerns, nor accustomed in London to know so much as the name of the next door, which is a feature of the metropulis neither hunderstood nor hemulated by provincial rustication.”
“I’m very sorry,” began Uncle Jenico. “I really thought——”
“Permit me to say, sir,” she broke in rather shrilly, “that you should not think about a woman at all, save in the way of kindness; and leastways, not to adopt her to your fancies. Suspicion begets the shadows of its own rising, Mr. Paxton.”
And, with these enigmatical words, she left us quite crushed and flabby.
We had hardly recovered, indeed, when steps outside woke us alert, and the next instant Mr. Sant entered.
He looked pale, and worn, and unshaved; but his eyes lightened at sight of me sitting there rested and confident.
“Ha, Dick!” he said. “What a brave constitution, you little dog! Is it fit for another strain yet, do you think?”
He came and put an affectionate arm over my shoulders.
“Is it fit?” he repeated, while Harry and Uncle Jenico stood wondering.