“I wish you knew him, papa, and would advise him,” his daughter said.
The General nodded hastily. “By-and-by, by-and-by.”
They had in fact taken seats at a table of mutton pies in a pastrycook’s shop, where dashing military men were restrained solely by their presence from a too noisy display of fascinations before the fashionable waiting-women.
Rosamund looked at Miss Denham. As soon as they were in the street the latter said, “If you will be good enough to come with me, madam...?” Rosamund bowed, thankful to have been comprehended. The two young ladies kissed cheeks and parted. General Sherwin raised his hat, and was astonished to see Mrs. Culling join Miss Denham in accepting the salute, for they had not been introduced, and what could they have in common? It was another of the oddities of female nature.
“My name is Mrs. Culling, and I will tell you how it is that I am interested in Captain Beauchamp,” Rosamund addressed her companion. “I am his uncle’s housekeeper. I have known him and loved him since he was a boy. I am in great fear that he is acting rashly.”
“You honour me, madam, by speaking to me so frankly,” Miss Denham answered.
“He is quite bent upon this Election?”
“Yes, madam. I am not, as you can suppose, in his confidence, but I hear of him from Dr. Shrapnel.”
“Your uncle?”
“I call him uncle: he is my guardian, madam.”