“‘I came, sare,’ she says, with one of her pretty, mocking laughs, ‘to ask you for ze address of my hosband, but you are absent, it ees no mattair. I find tree of my hosband’s lettaires, and one say he sup-poz my hosband go to Danmout. Dat is all.’”
“Then she’ll find me out, and come down here and spoil all.”
“Divil a doubt of it, me boy, as Paddy says.”
“But you—you left the letters lying about.”
“Not I. They came by the morning’s post. How the deuce could I tell that she would hunt me up, and then open her ‘hosband’s’ letters.”
“I am not her husband;” cried Glyddyr furiously. “That confounded French marriage does not count.”
“That’s what you’ve got to make her believe, my dear boy.”
“And if it did, I’d sooner smother myself than live with the wretched harpy.”
“Yes; I should say she had a temper Glyddyr. So under the circumstances, dear boy, I thought the best thing I could do was to come down fast as I could and put you on your guard.”
“My dear Gellow.”