“But, my dear sir!” cried Lord Henry, hardly able to conceal his disgust; “what steps are you going to take to save her?”
“Save her? save her?” said Elbraham. “She don’t want any saving.”
“Oh yes, from such a terrible fall. It may not yet be too late!”
“Save her?” cried Elbraham, with a hoarse chuckle. “Why, Moorpark, you don’t know her. Keep it dark from your wife, who is a good one. You drew the best lot. There’s no saving Clo; she’s bad to the core, and I’m devilish glad she’s gone, for I shall get a little peace now.”
“But you are going to pursue her?” said Lord Henry.
“Pursue her! What for? To have her scratch my eyes out, and that black scoundrel Malpas punch my head? No, thankye—deuced good port this! She’s gone, and jolly go with her! I wash my hands of her now.”
“But this is terrible, Elbraham.”
“Terrible? Why, it’s bliss to me; she’d have killed me. I used to be a bit jealous at first; but I had to get over that, for she was always flirting with someone.”
“But you must fetch her back, Elbraham!” exclaimed Lord Henry excitedly. “Think of the family credit!”
“Family credit!” cried Elbraham. “Why, they hadn’t got none—poor as Job, and nobody would trust them.”