It seemed the best course now, and Mr. Eppington took the plunge.
“Don’t you think,” he said, unconsciously glancing round the room to be sure they were alone, “that young Sennett is a little too much about the house?”
Blake stared at him.
“Of course, we know it is all right—as nice a young fellow as ever lived—and Edith—and all that. Of course, it’s absurd, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, people will talk.”
“What do they say?”
The other shrugged his shoulders.
Blake rose. He had an ugly look when angry, and his language was apt to be coarse.
“Tell them to mind their own business, and leave me and my wife alone.” That was the sense of what he said; he expressed himself at greater length, and in stronger language.