"Do you mean to tell me that that odious Hutchins Burley is also in London at this very minute?"
"Don't be alarmed; I give you my word he sha'n't molest you again. I was about to res—I was about to transfer my valuable services to another sphere. What you have told me determines me to hang on a little longer, for the sole satisfaction of bringing Hutchins Burley to book."
"Oh, you mustn't injure your prospects on my account."
"No fear. There's pleasure in checkmating a fellow like Burley, and profit, too. You know, Janet, the real old-fashioned heavy-weight villains are deplorably scarce. Goodness, routine goodness, is so easy nowadays, it is so much in fashion, it is so thoroughly rammed down our throats by compulsory education, that very few people are inclined to be wicked and fewer still are energetic enough to carry out the inclination. Mr. Hutchins Burley is a rare beast. He does not identify his wickedness with our goodness. Not he. He believes in himself from top to bottom. Unlike the usual criminal of today, he doesn't suffer from the cowardice of his convictions."
They discussed Janet's plans. Ways and means, and how to get her off the rocks, were the first considerations.
"Do you know what?" said Pryor, reflectively; "your old friend Cornelia Covert could give you a lift."
"Oh, no; I can't go back to America—not yet, anyhow," said Janet resolutely.
"But she isn't in America. She's in Paris. You didn't know it? Then I've a big piece of news for you. She's married!"
"Cornelia married!"
"Yes. Benedick, the married man, isn't in it with Diana, the married woman."