"Now don't—now don't. What can be the matter with you?" urged Sir Jekyl in a low tone.
"This, sir—I'll see him no more—you must. You shall take me away."
"Now, now, now—come! Are you talking like a sane person, Jane? What the devil can have come over you about these trumpery diamonds?"
"You shan't talk that way."
"Come! I venture to say they are nothing like as valuable as you fancy, and whatever they are, Lennox got them a devilish good bargain, rely on it. He knows perfectly well what he's about. Everyone knows how rich he is, and the wife of a fellow like that ought to have jewels; people would talk—I give you my honour they would, if you had not; and then he is in town, with nothing to keep him there—no business, I mean—an old military man, and he wants to keep you in good-humour."
"It's a lie. I know what you mean."
"Upon my soul, it's fact," he laughed, looking very pale. "Surely you don't mistake an old East Indian general for a Joseph!"
"Talk any way but that, you wretch! I know him. It's no use—he's the soul of honour. Oh Jekyl, Jekyl! why did not you marry me when you might, and save me from all this?"
"Now, Janet, is this reasonable—you know you never thought of it—you know it would not have done—would you have liked Beatrix? Besides, you have really done better—a great deal better—he's not so old as he looks—I dare say not much older than I—and a devilish deal richer, and—a—what the devil you want, for the life of me, I can't see."
It was about at this point in their conversation that, on a sudden, they came upon Monsieur Varbarriere, looking through his field-glass. Lady Jane moved to turn short about, but Sir Jekyl pressed his arm on hers impatiently, and kept her straight.