"Oh Vivian!" mocked Mrs. Paslow. "You see he is a thief."
"You lie," said Paslow angrily. "Beatrice does not believe that."
"No! no! I would never believe it," said Beatrice.
"You fool!" scoffed Mrs. Paslow.
"You angel!" cried Vivian fervently, and then proceeded rapidly with his nauseous story. "Under my feigned name I was tried--and thus, thank God! I was enabled to save my father from dying of a broken heart. I was accused, but Tuft, Alpenny's lawyer, defended me--not from kindness. No. Alpenny, by this accusation of theft, secured a hold over me, which he used after my father's death to extort the property from me. This is why I am so poor. Alpenny and my wife"--he laid a scornful emphasis on the word--"got all my money."
"And we had a right to," said Mrs. Paslow. "I am your wife, and Alpenny, through Tuft, saved you from going to gaol."
"For his own ends merely," retorted Vivian. "I had to pay bitterly for his aid.--This woman"--he again pointed to Maud--"was condemned, as it was proved that she was an expert thief, and she was sentenced to a few months' imprisonment."
"To five months," said Mrs. Paslow shamelessly.
"I was acquitted; but the judge read me a lecture on the kind of society I kept. And Heaven help me!" cried Vivian, "then was the first time that I knew what sort of society my marriage had led me into."
"You were always a greenhorn," said Mrs. Paslow, patting her hair into shape, and arranging her ruffled plumes.