At the name of Sir George, Nanette gave a start.
“Is he here?” she cried, excitedly.
“Aye. Here or somewhere with his wife, I make no doubt,” I said.
“His wife, m’sieur?”
“Aye. His wife.”
“Never!”
“What?” I cried.
“Never!” repeated Nanette.
“Oh, the villain[villain],” she went on. “Has he told you that lie?”
“Then it is not true?” I asked, trembling lest the answer would shatter newly raised hopes.