“A very unreliable agent, one would have said,” concurred Carlyon. He frowned down at the lid of his snuffbox. “And yet,” he said, “I will own that I have sometimes wondered where Eustace found the money to pay for some of his more expensive pleasures. This might be the answer.”
“A Bonapartist agent!” said Elinor. “Well, I thought I had known the worst of my bridegroom, but it seems I was at fault!”
“I should think,” said Carlyon, “that he was, rather, a go-between.”
“I do not see that that would make him any better!”
“On the contrary, decidedly worse.”
“Oh, what an abominable man you are!” cried Elinor, quite out of patience.
“Hush, my love!” interposed Miss Beccles in gentle reproof. “A lady should never be uncivil, you know. His lordship must be quite shocked to hear you express yourself with such unbecoming violence.”
“I wish I might shock him!” said Elinor bitterly.
“Well, I do not see why you should wish so!” said Nicky, firing up. “And Ned is not an abominable man!”
“A gentleman, Nicky,” said Carlyon, grave as a judge, “should never contradict a lady.”