“I wish we had never frightened the dear little thing away,” Wilfred went on, in a maudlin manner. “She was our little bit of righteousness. It made me take to bad courses, her going away did.”
This was not a happy speech, and it was followed by a minute’s silence on the part of all three of his brothers; Stephen was not there.
“Why don’t you hunt her up, Harry?” went on Wilfred, who either wished to irritate his brother or had less tact than usual. “I wouldn’t let my wife leave me in the lurch, if I had one, and go tramping about all over the world, amusing herself without me.”
“She may go to the deuce for what I care, if she isn’t gone already!” burst out Harry.
William clinched his fists and tried to keep still. The injured husband went on:
“A little, sly, vagabond governess, glad enough to entrap a gentleman into marrying her, and then cutting away and bringing disgrace upon his name!”
“Disgrace!” cried William, turning with flashing eyes upon his brother. “As if any wife could disgrace you! As if Annie, who was a thousand times too good for you to black her shoes, could have any worse disgrace than to be your wife!”
“You hold your tongue, you young cub!” said his brother, doggedly. “I say she didn’t deserve a decent husband.”
“Well, she didn’t get one”—this from Wilfred.
“She didn’t deserve a decent husband, and she couldn’t be expected to stay in a respectable house.”