“By the way, I have been robbed; some one has carried off my gold comb and some pins; they were on my dressing-table last night. Jane saw them when I went into my room.”
“Now 's your time to replace the loss! It's the sort of tale old Fossbrooke always responded to.”
She made no answer; and for several minutes each sat in silence. “One thing is pretty evident,” said he at last, as he made figures with his cane on the ground,—“we 'll have to troop off, whether the Lendricks come here or not. The place will not be tenable once they are in the vicinity.”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know! Do you mean that the doctor and his daughter will stand the French cook here, and the dinners, and let the old man make a blessed fool of himself, as he has been doing for the last eight or ten months past? or do you pretend that if we were to go back to the leg-of-mutton days, and old Haire for company, that it would be worth holding on to? I don't; and I tell you frankly that I intend to demand my passports, as the Ministers say, and be off.”
“But I can't 'be off.' I have no such alternative!”
“The worse luck yours, or rather the worse skill; for if you had played your hand better, it would not have been thus with you. By the way, what about Trafford? I take it he 'll marry this girl now.”
“I have not heard,” said she, pinching her lips, and speaking with a forced composure.
“If I were you, I 'd make myself Lucy's confidante, get up the match, and go and live with them. These are the really happy ménages. If there be such a thing as bliss, perfect bliss, in this world, it is where a wife has a dear friend in the house with her, who listens to all her sorrows, and helps her to manage the tyrant that inflicts them. It was a great mistake of ours not to have known this in early life. Marriage was meant to be a triangle.”
“If you go, as you speak of going, have you any objection to my addressing myself to Sir Brook for some assistance?”