Wrecked in Port: A Novel

by Edmund Yates

This question was rather addressed to Maude, and she answered it by saying quietly, "I suppose so."

"Oh, nonsense, Maude!" said Gertrude; "uncle's an old dear--kindest, nicest old thing in the world, but not for a girl to like in--well, in that sort of way, don't you know! Not the sort of man to be a girl's first love, I mean!"

"Are you sure that your uncle is Miss Ashurst's first love?"

"We never heard of any other. What is it, George--Mr. Benthall, I mean? You've found out something! Oh, do tell us!"

"Did you know anything of a Mr. Joyce, who was one of Mr. Ashurst's masters?"

"Certainly--a small, slim, good-looking young man," said Maude.

"Good looking, oh?" said Mr. Benthall.

"Should not you say so, Gertrude?"

"Well, I don't know," said Gertrude; "he was too short, I think, and too dark. I like a--I mean----" And Gertrude broke down, and flew the flag of distress in her face again.

"What of Mr. Joyce, in connection with the subject on which we were talking, Mr. Benthall?" asked Maude.