“Sleep in his house! break bread with him!” exclaimed Harriet. “What do you think I am made of? I would perish—go to the workhouse, rather!”
“I see you trooping there,” said the Countess, intent on the vision.
“And have you accepted his invitation for yourself, Louisa?”
The Countess was never to be daunted by threatening aspects. She gave her affirmative with calmness and a deliberate smile.
“You are going to live with him?”
“Live with him! What expressions! My husband accompanies me.”
Harriet drew up.
“I know nothing, Louisa, that could give me more pain.”
The Countess patted Harriet’s knee. “It succeeds to bankruptcy, assuredly. But would you have me drag Silva to the—the shop, Harriet, love? Alternatives!”
Mrs. Andrew got up and rang the bell to have the remains of their dinner removed. When this was done, she said,