She did not finish her sentence, but her eyes flashed as she looked full in his, holding the candle over him the while.
“Now, look here,” she said, more temperately. “I shall have a talk with my gentleman in the morning.”
“What, poor Humphrey?”
“Poor Humphrey, no. But mind this—he’s not to come near Polly.”
“But you don’t think—”
“Never mind what I think, you mind what I say, and leave me to bring things round. If she don’t know what’s good for her, I do; and I shall have my way.”
The butler sighed.
“Now, look here, I shall have some words of a sort with my fine gentleman in the morning.”
“No, no, Martha, don’t—pray don’t; let things be now; we can’t alter them.”
“Can’t we?” said Mrs Lloyd, viciously—“I’ll see about that.”