Jessop was drawing Janet’s arm through his as she gazed with flashing eyes at her betrothed.
“Come away,” Jessop whispered. “Janet, dearest, this is no place for you.”
Chapter Twelve.
In Russell Square.
“But surely, Doctor, you don’t believe I could be such a scoundrel?”
“My dear Clive, I should be sorry to think ill of any one, but you see I am a student of man’s nature.”
“Then you believe it?”
“That you are a scoundrel, my dear boy? Oh, dear no; I think you one of the best of fellows, or I would not have allowed that engagement to take place; and as I said to Janet, we must be a bit lenient; there was every excuse.”