‘There is money in the question,’ said Mrs. Swinford, leaning forward and speaking low, ‘and their object is to find out that she has no rights. He took my hints like milk; they were balm to him. Fancy so many thousand pounds—I know no details—and if not to her they will go to him. Is not that worth the trouble?’
‘To the man, perhaps, Cecile—but why to you?’
‘To me much more than to him,’ she said, with flashing eyes.
‘Why?’
‘You are stupid to-night,’ said Mrs. Swinford coldly; ‘not for a long time, for many years, have I found you so before.’
‘Because,’ said Mrs. Brown, ‘this that you have said is, as you are aware, not——’
‘Your scruples are engaging, they are beautiful, they are something to put in a story-book,’ said the lady. ‘You to stand for that! You, who——’
‘It is better not to go too far. I have done a great many reckless things. I am a reckless woman altogether, and have not cared what became of me for many a long day: but I have never done anything like that. Ah yes, I have scruples; every one has, you even, if one knew where to look for them.’
‘It was you,’ said Mrs. Swinford, ‘who made the suggestion at the first.’
‘To save you, Cecile, to save you.’