Of course she began to excuse herself; he knew that she would do so. The uneasily confident way in which she had talked of the playhouse had told him that she would soon be accusing herself by her excuses without the need for him to open his lips.
“You will understand, sir, I doubt not, that I was but in the position of a servant, though my ladies treated me graciously; I could not but obey them in all matters,” she said.
“Does your saying that mean that you had some reluctance in going to the playhouse?” he asked her.
“I was not quite—quite—sure,” she replied slowly. “I had heard that the playhouse was a wicked place.”
“And therefore you were interested in it—is that so?”
“But I asked myself, 'Would my young ladies go to the playhouse—would the Squire, who surely knows a good deal about wickedness, having lived for so many years in London—would the Squire and his lady allow them to go to the playhouse if there was anything evil in it?'”
“And so you went and you were delighted with the painted faces on both sides of the stage, and you have remained unsettled ever since, so that you must needs do your best to imitate an actress whose shamelessness of living is in everybody's mouth? I know that you imitated this Woffington woman to your young ladies when you returned warm and excited from the playhouse, and they laughed hugely at your skill.”
Nelly stood still, so startled was she at the divination of her companion.
“How came you to hear that?” she cried.
“Were we not alone in the bedroom? Who could have told you so much?”