"Don't pretend to be stupid, Paul! I mean your engagement."
"What has business to do with that?" he asked, quickly taking the high hand; but Lady George was his match there.
"Everything, unless you have fallen in love with her."
Home thrusts of this sort are, however, unwise, since they rouse the meanest antagonist to resistance.
"Have it so if you will. I am quite ready to admit that love has nothing to do with business. Honour has. I am engaged to Miss Woodward, and that is enough for me."
Lady George shrugged her shoulders. There was a manly dogmatism about his manner which was simply unbearable.
"My dear boy," she said, "if a man begins to talk about honour it is time for a woman to beat a retreat. Since you have such strict notions on the subject, I presume you have explained to Mr. Woodward the exact state of affairs at Gleneira? The estate overburdened, and not a penny of ready money to be had except by sale."
"I really can't discuss the subject with you, Blanche. Women never understand a man's code of honour on these points; and they never understand business."
She crushed down an obvious retort in favour of peace, for she was genuinely alarmed. So much so, that the moment she returned to town she went to see Mrs. Vane, thinking it more than likely that Paul might have confided something to her. She was just the sort of little woman in whom men did confide, and Paul was perfectly silly about her, though, of course, she was a very charming little woman.
Now, Mrs. Vane had heard the rumours of Mr. Woodward's losses before, and heard them with a glad heart, since the possibility of having to use those letters which were locked up in her dressing-case weighed upon her. But she had not heard them from Paul; had not seen him, in fact, as she had only returned from the country two days before, and had since been ill with fever.