“But it is true. There was Rudd—what do you say of him?”
Rudd must be owned to. So far off he showed so dim a speck in the distance, there seemed nothing in it.
“Young Stainer—you forget him, too, I suppose——.”
“Stainer?” said poor Mary. “He was a boy, Jinny.”
“He had a pair of arms, I believe. And I should like to hear your opinion of Fred Wimple. You were never at Folkestone in your life, I suppose? You never talked to Sandgate by moonlight? Never met any one in your life by moonlight?”
The remembrance of a meeting by moonlight, more recent than any at Folkestone, enabled Mary to consider Mr. Wimple’s case.
“I don’t think you need drag up flirtations against me. You’re not very generous, Jinny. Of course I flirted.”
“Did you flirt with Mr. Ambrose Perivale? Was that what made him follow you home across England? Did you flirt with Mr. Dup—.” But now Mary clung to her.
“Stop, Jinny, oh, stop! If I’ve been wicked I must pay for it—it’s always the girl that pays. But I have never been wicked—you know it, oh, you must know it of your sister. I’ve told him everything, Jinny—all that he would hear. But he’s too good to believe anything against me; he’ll protect me, he’ll never let me come to any harm. Oh, Jinny, Jinny, don’t be cruel to me any more! If ever a girl meant to do her duty in life I mean it now. Dearest, you must help me—I’m afraid of him, you know.”
Jinny folded her arms tightly over her chest. “Yes, I can believe it—and you may be afraid of your husband before long—for the same reason. You go out of your own walk—and you get lost. Your Tristram Duplessis, who looks at a girl as if he wanted to eat her! You can’t be expected to understand such ways. And it’s my belief that your John Germain, Esquire, is no better—except for one thing, that he hasn’t any teeth. If you ask me, I would rather be eaten any day by Mr. Duplessis. He’d make a cleaner job of it.”