And then, as I say, I returned, with a deal of expectancy in my mind. Moxon was putting out my slippers with Dandy looking on—Dandy assuring him, with expressions of contempt for his intelligence, that it was not a bit of good.
"There's some one with him," sniffed Dandy. "We shall have to sit up till they go," and he looked back again into the fire.
I remained there for a moment watching him, really waiting to hear what Moxon had to say. He stood up then, and as he said it, upon my soul, I came to the conclusion that I had never had such respect for diplomacy before.
"Is there anything more, sir?" he asked, and had there been a conscience to prick me, I swear to Heaven I should have begged his pardon for having asked so much. As it was, I smiled serenely when I looked back into his face.
"No—I think that's enough," said I.
And when he replied, "Yes, sir," it was intended to convey that he entirely agreed with me.
I let him get to the door and there he stopped, looking round the room once more, to see if I had forgotten anything on my own account; then as he was departing, I called him back. It might have been enough for him; it was a gross misrepresentation to say that it was enough for me.
"Do you mean to say, Moxon," I began, "that you wouldn't help a woman if she was in trouble?"
"I was not aware, sir," he replied, "that I had said anything about any woman."
I had to swallow that as best I could and begin again on a fresh score.