“Serve you right. You’ve driven sleeve-links into plenty of people’s flesh. Sit still. And you, Madam Janet, do you hear? We’re going to ruin him.”
“Reed! Don’t make an ass of yourself. He doesn’t know what he is saying, Mrs Reed.”
“Ha, ha! Don’t I? Ruined, I tell you. Play Jacob to me, would he? Down upon his knees he comes.”
Janet looked sharply from one to the other, and Wrigley, who made no effort to go now, uttered an uneasy laugh.
“I’ve been down and found out all about him and his nice little ways. Do you hear, madam? Pretty mistress. Beats you all to fits. Dark. Large eyes. Juno sort of a girl. He’s got fine taste, our Clive. He knows a pretty girl when he sees one. This isn’t a white-faced Lyddy, but dark, I tell you; skin like cream, teeth of pearls, and a red, full, upturned lip. A beauty!”
“’Pon my word, my dear Jessop, you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Wrigley.
“I am, to be here, and not down there, trying—bah! it wouldn’t want any trying—cutting the blackguard out.”
“Really, Mrs Reed, I feel quite ashamed to be here listening to such nonsense, but pray don’t take any notice; it is all said in a teasing spirit, and to-morrow morning he will not know what occurred.”
Janet looked at him searchingly, but she made no reply. In fact, she had no time, for Jessop chuckled.
“Won’t I?” he cried. “Don’t you make any mistake, lawyer. Sharper fellow than you think for. I’m drunk, am I? Only my legs, old man. Head’s sober as a judge. You think you are making me your tool, do you? All right: perhaps so; but I’m a very sharp tool, old man, and if you don’t use me properly I may cut your fingers.” Wrigley coughed.