"Seen Sir Edmund since Mr. Brightman's death!"
"I have indeed."
She threw herself back in her chair, and looked at me from under her vain eyelids. "Leave him, Mr. Strange; you can easily make an excuse, if you will. Mr. Brightman held all my husband's papers, knew all about his property, and no one is so fitted to act for me as you, his partner. I will make it worth your while."
"What you suggest is impossible, Lady Clavering. We are enlisted in the interests—I speak professionally—of the other side, and have already advised with Sir Edmund as to the steps to be taken in the suit you purpose to enter against him. To leave him for you, after doing so, would be dishonourable and impossible."
She shot another glance at me from those mischievous eyes. "I will make it well worth your while, I repeat, Mr. Strange."
I could look mischievous too, if I pleased; perhaps did on occasion; but she could read nothing in my gaze then, as it met hers, that was not sober as old Time.
"I can only repeat my answer, Lady Clavering."
Not a word spoke she; only made play with her eyes. Did the woman mean to subdue me? Her gaze dropped.
"I have heard Mr. Brightman speak of Charles Strange not only as a thorough lawyer, but as a gentleman—very fond of the world's vanities."
"Not very fond, Lady Clavering. Joining in them occasionally, in proper time and place."