Her astonishment increased.
"Do you mean me to leave my home?"
"Yes."
"And .... my husband?"
"Yes."
"Leave my husband?—leave my Cecil? Why, papa, what can have put that into your head? Do you suppose, I am not happy here? ... He is the best of husbands!"
Meredith Vyner had recourse to his snuff-box, as in all emergencies. He inserted thumb and index finger into it, and trifled mechanically with the grains, while seeking for some argument.
"Do, dear papa, relieve me from this suspense .... What is it you mean?"
"Are you serious, Blanche?—is he a good husband?'
"I adore him; he is the kindest creature on earth."