‘But there was a man?’ Mrs. Hayward said.
‘There was a man: but entirely out of the question, quite out of the question, Elizabeth. You would have said so yourself if you had seen him.’
‘Never mind that. Most likely quite suitable for her in her former circumstances. But that is not the question at all. What I wanted to know was just what you tell me. There was a man——’
‘I have never heard a word of him from that day to this. Joyce has never referred to him. I hope never to hear his name again.’
‘Ah!’ said Mrs. Hayward, opposing the profound calm of a spectator to the rising excitement of her listener. ‘I wonder, now, what he would think of Captain Bellendean.’
‘Of Bellendean? why, what should he think? What is there about Bellendean to be thought of? Yes, yes, himself of course, and he’s a very fine fellow; but that is not what you mean.’
‘Do you mean to say, Henry, that you did not remark how the Captain, as she calls him, affiches himself everywhere—far more than I consider becoming—with Joyce?’
‘Affiches himself! My dear, I don’t know exactly what you mean by that. So many French words are used nowadays.’
‘Makes a show of himself, then—marks her out for other people’s remark—can’t see her anywhere but he is at her side, or her feet, or however it may happen. Why, didn’t you remark he insisted on having her in his boat to-day, and paid no attention to the young lady from town who was of his own party and came with him, and of course ought to have had his first care?’
‘My dear, I was in that boat. It was natural Joyce should be with me.’