“But really, sir—”
“And then, Miss Kellett,” added he, in a sort of thrilling whisper, “she drank; at first sherry,—brown sherry—but afterwards brandy,—ay, ma'am, brandy neat and a matter of a bottle daily. If you only knew what I went through with her,—the scenes in the streets, in the playhouses, in coffee-rooms,—ay, and police-offices,—I give you my sacred word of honor Simpson Hankes was rapidly becoming as great a public scandal as the Rev. Paul Classon himself!”
“Cannot you perceive, sir, that these details are less than uninteresting to me?”
“Don't say that, Miss Kellett,—don't, I beg you, or else you 'll make me fear that you 'll not read the little pamphlet I published, entitled 'A Brief Statement by Simpson Hankes,'—a brochure that I am proud to believe decided the world in my favor.”
“Once for all, Mr. Hankes, I decline to hear more of these matters. If I have not more plainly told you how little they claim to interest me, it is because my own selfish cares fill up my thoughts. I will try to hand you the correspondence Mr. Dunn desires to see in your keeping by to-morrow morning. There are many circumstances will require special explanation in it. However I will do my best to be ready.”
“And my offer, Miss Kellett?”
“I have declined it, sir.”
“But really, young lady, are you well aware of what it is you refuse?” asked he, angrily.
“I will not discuss the question, sir,” said she, haughtily. “Give me that letter I showed you.”
“The letter, I opine, is mine, Miss Kellett. The address alone pertains to you.”