Rochester continued for a moment to gaze out of the window across the Park, with expressionless face.
“My dear Mary,” he said, “I did not encourage him to do anything of the sort.”
“You let him Blackbird’s Nest,” she reminded him.
“I had scarcely a reasonable excuse for refusing to let it,” Rochester answered. “I did not suggest that he should take it. I merely referred him to my agents. He went to see old Bland the very next morning, and the thing was arranged.”
“I think,” Lady Mary said deliberately, “that it is one of those cases where you should have exercised a little more discrimination. This is a small neighborhood, and I find it irritating to be continually running up against people whom I dislike.”
“You dislike Saton?” Rochester remarked, nonchalantly.
“Dislike is perhaps a strong word,” his wife answered. “I distrust him. I disbelieve in him. And I dislike exceedingly the friendship between him and Lois.”
Rochester shrugged his shoulders.
“Does it amount to a friendship?” he asked.