And Amelia took the hint meekly and got up from her seat, leaving a pear unfinished.
"Shut the door now, and don't stand loitering there!" my mother-in-law further commanded.
Amelia is a poor relation, and has often to put up with unfinished manners.
"Look here, my dear," Mrs. Gurrage said, when she felt sure we were alone, "I don't like it—and that's flat!"
"What do you not like?" I said, respectfully.
"Gussie's goings-on! If you tried to coax him more he would not be forever rushin' up to London to see that viscountess of his. I wonder you don't show no spark of jealousy. Law! I'd have scratched her eyes out had she interfered between me and Mr. Gurrage as she is doing between you two, even if she was a duchess!"
"I do not understand," I said.
"Well, you must have your eyes glued shut," Mrs. Gurrage continued, emphatically. "That Lady Grenellen, I mean. A nice viscountess she is, lookin' after other people's husbands! Why, you can't never have even glanced at the letters Gussie's got from her!"
"Oh, but of course not!"
"Well, I have. My suspicions began to be aroused directly after you got back from Harley. I caught sight of a coronet on the envelope" (Mrs. Gurrage pronounces it "envellup"), "and I said to myself, there's something queer in that, Gussie never sayin' a word—he as would be so proud of a letter with a crown on it."