“From whom? Why, every one knows it!” cried Mrs. Lewis. “And besides, I got a letter that told me—”
“A letter from whom?”
“From—I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did.”
“Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed the slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, I'm ashamed of you.”
“Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of me made me aware of the truth—it is the truth, whether you deny it or not.”
“You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. You do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve to have one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are obliged to go without husbands all their lives, poor things!”
“It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam.”
“Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except on the stage.”
“Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only happy when—”
“Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that vague everybody.”