"Indeed, and what interest can that have for me, Mr. Brendon?"
"This much. You are a woman and must feel interested to a certain extent in a love romance. I am aware that I am appealing to you in a way which you may regard as foolish, but I am so anxious for certain information, and, from what Mr. Ireland said, you alone can give it. To put the thing in a nutshell--I am in love, and you can forward my marriage if you will."
Miss Bull heard him in silence, but as he talked a faint crimson flushed her face and a softer light shone in her hard eyes. She put her hand to her heart, as though she felt a cruel pain, and sank into a chair. Alarmed by her pallor, which had now returned, George would have called for assistance, but she stopped him. "I shall be all right shortly," she muttered in faint tones. "Marriage, love, what have I to do with such things?" She paused, and then continued, her voice gathering strength as she proceeded, "Who is the bride, Mr. Brendon?"
"She is not a bride yet; she never may be," replied the young man, gloomily, "for if she does not become my wife she will accept no one else. I can trust her implicitly. Her name is Dorothy Ward."
Miss Bull rose with an ejaculation and her face grew red. "Is her mother the Honorable Mrs. Ward who married Lord Ransome's son?"
"Yes. Do you know her?" asked George, surprised at her emotion.
"I have heard of her," replied Miss Bull, resuming her seat with feigned indifference, but with barely concealed agitation. "Dorothy Ward. A handsome girl. I have seen her in the Park."
"She is as good as she is beautiful," cried Brendon, enthusiastically.
"I'll take your word for that," said Miss Bull in a softer tone. "Mr. Brendon, I will help you. Don't ask me why. Perhaps it is on account of your romance; perhaps because--because--" her hand clenched itself and she fought down an outburst--"no matter. I will do what I can to forward the marriage. What do you wish to know?"
"About Mrs. Jersey."