"You have never once mentioned Cora to me, sir," said Henry Harper respectfully. "And I'm very glad you haven't, because a great wrong's been done her."
"Didn't I tell you she was up to no good, and that you had better be careful?"
"No, sir, you never said a single word to me."
"I certainly meant to do so ... but that's my unfortunate memory. I remember I had Charles XII. of Sweden in my head at the time; practically three hundred pages of Volume XXXIII. But it's no excuse. I'll never be able to forgive myself for not having warned you. It's a pity she's Mrs. Greaves' niece, but I'm as sure as Tilly sacked Magdeburg that that girl Cora is not respectable."
"You are quite mistaken in that, sir," said Henry Harper, with a dignity of an entirely new kind, "because she is now my wife."
"I beg your pardon, Henry." Mr. Rudge had begun to realize that he was letting his tongue run away with him. "I'd forgotten that. I dare say I have been misinformed."
"Yes, sir, I am quite sure of that. You have no idea how careful she is in that way. It is because she is so careful that I've married her."
"Goodness gracious me!" said Mr. Rudge.
"She is most particular. And so are all her lady friends. And it's because I've been going to her flat and getting her talked about and going to the Coliseum with her, that I thought I ought to act the gentleman."
"Goodness gracious me! I wouldn't have had this happen for a thousand pounds."