‘Oh, yes. I’ve no doubt it will be disagreeable. Medicines are seldom sweet to the palate. Mrs. Meredith, I will out with it at once, not to keep you in suspense.’
Here, however, he paused to take out his handkerchief, and blew his nose with a very resounding utterance. After he had finished this operation he resumed:
‘I don’t presume to teach a lady of your sense what is her duty; and I don’t need to tell you that the world exercises a great supervision over women who, from whatever cause, are left alone.’
‘What have I done?’ cried Mrs. Meredith, half frightened, half laughing. ‘I must have made some mistake, or you would not speak so.’
‘I doubt if it could be called a mistake; perhaps it would be better to say a misapprehension. Mrs. Meredith, there is one of your friends who pays you a visit every day.’
‘Several,’ she said, relieved. ‘You know how kind people are to me. Instead of supervision, as you say, I get a great deal of sympathy——’
Mr. Sommerville waved his hand, as if to ward off her explanation. ‘I am speaking of one person,’ he said: ‘a man—who is here every evening of his life, or I’m mistaken—your neighbour, Mr. Beresford, next door.’
‘Mr. Beresford!’ she said, with a thrill of disagreeable surprise; and there came to her instantaneously one of those sudden realisations of things that might be thought or said, such as sometimes overwhelm the unsuspecting soul at the most inappropriate moment; her colour rose in spite of herself.
‘Just Mr. Beresford. He means no harm and you mean no harm; but he should be put a stop to, my dear lady. You gave me your word you would not be angry. But, madam, you’re a married lady, and your husband is at a distance. It’s not for your credit or his good that he should visit you every night.’
‘Mr. Sommerville! stop, please! I cannot let you talk so—or anyone.’