“I’ve never heard you speak of him before,” he reflected.
“There’s none so deaf as he that will not hear. I’ve spoken of him to you at least a thousand times. He forms the staple of my conversation.”
“I must be veryy deaf indeed. I swear this is absolutely news to me.”
“Oh, Will, you are such a goose—or such a hypocrite,” said she. “But it’s tea-time. Help me up.”
She held out her hand, and, he took it and helped her up. But she tottered a little before she got her balance (or made, at least, a feint of doing so), and grasped his hand tight as if to save herself, and all but fell into his arms.
He drew back a step.
She looked straight into his eyes. “You’re a goose, and a hypocrite, and a prig, and—a dear,” she said.
V.
Their tea was served in the garden, and whilst they were dallying over it, a footman brought Johannah a visiting-card.
She glanced at the card; and Will, watching her, noticed that a look of annoyance—it might even have been a look of distress—came into her face.