“With me! Oh, dear! What have I done?”
“What have you done? I’ll tell you what youve done. Why did you send Conolly, of all men in the world, to tell me that I was in disgrace here?”
“There was no one else, Marmaduke.”
“Well, suppose there wasn’t! Suppose there had been no one else alive on the earth except you, and I, and he, and Constance, and Su—and Constance! how could you have offered him such a job?”
“Why not? Was there any special reason—”
“Any special reason! Didnt your common sense tell you that a meeting between him and me must be particularly awkward for both of us?”
“No. At least I—. Marmaduke: I think you must fancy that I told him more than I did. I did not know where you were; and as he was going to London, and I thought you knew him well, and I had no other means of warning you, I had to make use of him. Jasper will tell you how thoroughly trustworthy he is. But all I said—and I really could not say less—was that I was afraid you were in bad company, or under bad influence, or something like that; and that I only wanted you to come down here at once.”
“Oh! Indeed! That was all, was it? Merely that I was in bad company.”
“I think I said under bad influence. I was told so; and I believed it at the time. I hope it’s not true, Marmaduke. If it is not, I beg your pardon with all my heart.”
Marmaduke stared very hard at her for a while, and then said, with the emphasis of a man baffled by utter unreason: “Well, I am damned!” at which breach of good manners she winced. “Hang me if I understand you, Marian,” he continued, more mildly. “Of course it’s not true. Bad influence is all bosh. But it was a queer thing to say to his face. He knew very well you meant his sister. Hallo! what’s the matter? Are you going to faint?”