"What duplicity! And this is the woman I trusted!"
"There was no voluntary duplicity on your wife's part. I know that she was most anxious you should be told the truth."
"You know! Yes, of course; you are in my wife's confidence—an honour I have never enjoyed."
"It was Austin who objected to make himself known to you."
"I scarcely wonder at that, considering his antecedents. The whole thing has been very cleverly done, Mr. Fairfax, and I acknowledge myself completely duped. I don't think there is any occasion for us to discuss the subject farther. Nothing that you could say would alter my estimation of the events of last night. I regret that I suffered myself to be betrayed into any violence—that kind of thing is behind the times. We have wiser remedies for our wrongs nowadays."
"You do not mean that you would degrade your wife in a law court!" cried Mr. Fairfax. "Any legal investigation must infallibly establish her innocence; but no woman's name can escape untainted from such an ordeal."
"No, I am not likely to do that. I have a son, Mr. Fairfax. As for my wife, my plans are formed. It is not in the power of any one living to alter them."
"Then it is useless for me to say more. On the honour of a gentleman, I have told you nothing but the truth. Your wife is innocent."
"She is not guiltless of having listened to you. That is quite enough for me."
"I have done, sir," said George Fairfax gravely, and, with a bow and a somewhat cynical smile, departed.