‘But why haven’t you told me this before? It was your duty to tell me—your plain duty. How long have you known?’
‘I heard of it first of all about three months ago, but it was only the other day that I was told the man’s name, and other things about him.’
‘Is it known to many people? Is the poor girl talked about?’
‘No, no,’ Crewe replied, with confidence. ‘The person who told me is the only one who has found it out; you may depend upon that.’
‘It must be a woman,’ said Mrs. Damerel sharply.
‘Yes, it’s a woman. Some one I know very well. She told me just because she thought I was still hoping to marry Miss. Lord, and—well, the truth is, though we’re good friends, she has a little spite against me, and I suppose it amused her to tell me something disagreeable.’
‘I have no doubt,’ said Mrs. Damerel, ‘that the secret has been betrayed to a dozen people.’
‘I’ll go bail it hasn’t!’ returned Crewe, falling into his vernacular.
‘I can hardly believe it at all. I should never have dreamt that such a thing was possible. What is the man’s name? what is his position?’
‘Tarrant is his name, and he’s related somehow to a Mr. Vawdrey, well known in the City, who has a big house over at Champion Hill. I have no notion how they came together, or how long it was going on. But this Mr. Tarrant has been in America for a year, I understand; has only just come back; and now he’s living In poorish lodgings,—Great College Street, Westminster. I’ve made a few inquiries about him, but I can’t get at very much. A man who knows Vawdrey tells me that Tarrant has no means, and that he’s a loafing, affected sort of chap. If that’s true,—and it seems likely from the way he’s living,—of course he will be ready enough to marry Miss. Lord when the proper time has come; I’m only afraid that’s all he had in view from the first. And I can’t help suspecting, as I said, that she’s supporting him now. If not, why should she go and work in a shop? At all events, a decent man wouldn’t allow her to do it.’