"Such things are shocking," agreed Madderley; "and doubly shocking to those who have witnessed their effects."
Isabel laughed a hard little laugh. "Perhaps Mr. Madderley will make use of his artistic power to describe some of these harrowing spectacles."
"I shall do nothing of the kind, dear lady; such descriptions would not be fit for pretty ears. I believe even the wreckers themselves would rather not see the consequences of their cruelty; therefore such things should be kept from the knowledge of refined and tender-hearted women, whose nature it is to be kind and pitiful."
"You are quite right, Madderley," said Lord Wrexham approvingly, "descriptions of horrors and cruelties are most unfit for women's ears, in my opinion."
But Isabel still looked defiant. "Perhaps, then, Mr. Madderley will tell us where these modern and fiendish wreckers are to be found."
The artist strolled to the sideboard to cut himself some ham. "On the sea-coast of Bohemia, and thereabouts."
"Don't take any notice of him, Wrexham," said Isabel petulantly; "he is only making up, just to irritate me."
Lord Wrexham was surprised. "Why, Isabel, what is the matter with you? You and Madderley used to be such friends."
"I know we used; but friendships don't wear for ever, any more than clothes."
"I have always noticed," remarked Madderley, "that the untried friendships are those which last the longest."