“The family honour, then, sir,” said Lord Henry sternly.
“Family honour’s best without her. Jolly good riddance of bad rubbish, I say! She’s gone, and she won’t come back; and as for hunting for her, why, it would be disgracing your wife to do so.”
“But really—” began Lord Henry.
“Bah! Moorpark, you leave that to me; I’m a business man, and know what’s what. But, I say, it’s a lark, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand you,” said Lord Henry, who could not conceal his disgust for the contemptible little wretch before him.
“Why, about those jewels. My! how fine and mad she’ll be! It’s about the best thing I ever knew. She won’t get ’em now.”
Elbraham laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and then he wiped his eyes.
“I say, Moorpark, I ought to be devilishly cut up, you know, about this; but the fact is, I’m devilish glad. I shall look nasty and make a show about being all wrong, you know, for one’s credit’s sake; but it ain’t my fault. I couldn’t help it; she had it all her own way. And the money she has spent—my!”
Elbraham helped himself to some more port, while Lord Henry sat and tapped the table with his carefully cared-for nails.
“I’m not going to cry over spilt milk, Moorpark, I can tell you! She’s gone, and, as I said before, a good riddance!”