“He and I agree,” she read on, “that he should be received under the name of William Herbert.”
This paragraph she read twice over very deliberately.
“As I have pressed upon him, for reasons which, you will readily believe, are not dishonourable—what strikes me as a strong objection to his accepting the position you offer under his own name.”
“That’s very odd, it strikes me. Why shouldn’t he tell his name?” observed Mrs. Kincton Knox, with grim curiosity.
“I dare say he’s a low person, and his name is not pretty,” sneered Miss Clara, carelessly.
“Who is that Mr. Edmund?—Edward Sprague?” inquired the matron.
Mr. Kincton Knox testified to his character.
“But, just stop a moment—it is very odd. Why should he be, if he is a fit person to be received at Kincton—why should he be ashamed of his name?” repeated Mrs. Kincton Knox, grandly.
“Perhaps it may be as well to let it drop,” suggested Kincton Knox, in the hope that he was anticipating his wife’s wishes. But that grave lady raised her nose at his remark, and turned away, not vouchsafing an answer.
“Of course; I don’t say it is not all quite proper; but say what you may, and take it how you please, it is a very odd condition.”