‘Who is it he’s married?’ Emma asked. Probably all the last speech had been but a vague murmur to her ears.
‘Some one at Wanley.’
‘A lady?’
‘Yes, I suppose she’s a lady.’
‘You didn’t see her, then?’
‘Yes, I saw her. I don’t like her.’
Poor Alice meant this to be soothing. Emma knew it, and smiled.
‘I don’t think she cares much after all,’ Alice said to herself.
‘But was that the message?’
‘Only to tell you of it, Emma. There was something else,’ she added immediately; ‘not exactly a message, but he told me, and I dare say he thought I should let you know. He said that of course you were to have the money still as usual.’