“Have you ever heard of his friend, Mr. Gibbs?”
“No, dear. Who is he?”
“Oh, a dreadful man, I believe; unfit altogether for the society of your brother.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Richard Tallant, in a whisper, as he stood quietly smoking a cigar near the open doorway of the summer-house. “The conversation becomes interesting.”
“In what respect?” asked Phœbe.
“Why, dear, Paul has made every possible inquiry, and he pronounces him to be no better than a swindler; and he says many men have been transported and hanged who have done nothing worse than Mr. Gibbs has done,” said Amy, with animation.
“Those are strong words, Amy,” said Miss Tallant.
“They are, by Jove!” said her brother to himself; “but true, I believe, by my soul!”
“Not too strong, I fear, Miss Tallant,” Amy went on; “and——but I would rather not show you the letter.”
“Now you are getting angry, Miss Somerton,” said Amy, kissing her companion’s cheek.