"Oh!" Miss Jaffray gasped again. "He did so much good."
"Perhaps that is why his books are dull. Thoroughly good people are invariably----" Here she discreetly pulled the reins, as Miss Jaffray, considering herself good, might not relish the malicious witticism, presuming she could understand it. "I'll take you as my instructor, dear Miss Jaffray," added Leah, stifling another yawn. "Do tell me what to read."
"There's Wilkie Collins's Armadale," said the old maid, delighted at being put into the pulpit; "but you may think me rude for recommending that."
"Why should I?"
"There's a character in it so like you, in appearance," apologised Miss Jaffray; "in appearance only, you will understand. I should be sorry indeed to think that in morals you resembled Miss Gwilt."
"Miss--how much?"
"Gwilt. G-w-i-l-t," spelt the spinster--"the strange name of a strange woman. She's the character I spoke of. No, really you mightn't like her. She was--well--er--er--disreputable. Better begin with The Woman in White."
"Oh, I have heard of that. What is it about?"
"A striking resemblance between two women. One is passed off by her wicked husband as the other, and buried--to get money, you understand--a kind of fraud."
Leah turned cold and hot. It sounded as though this simple woman was explaining the contemplated deceit of herself and Jim. "I don't think I should like that book at all," she said, diplomatically cunning; "it sounds dull. I would rather read about the naughty woman--Miss--what's-her-name?"