“Your leading counsel will fall ill some day, and it will be a very interesting, romantic case, and you will be inspired to make the most eloquent speech, and your fortune will be made.”
“I see you know how such things happen,” he said with a laugh.
“Oh, yes, I have read a great many novels,” said Lucy. “That is always how young barristers get on; and between that and the woolsack is but a step.”
“A very long stride, I fear; but I do not insist on the woolsack,” said Durant; and then there was a pause, and he said lower, “I saw Arthur a few days ago.”
“Did you see him? Oh, Mr. Durant, you must not mind what mamma says. She has begun to jeer at him, and that is the worst of all. How was he looking? Poor Arthur, poor boy! And his wife—did you see her? Oh, I have been hearing such a story of her!”
“What story?” he asked anxiously.
He had heard many; but on the whole he was no enemy to Nancy. He saw the glimmer of tears in Lucy’s eyes, and this did much to steel his heart against Arthur’s wife; but still he had no feeling against Nancy. He was ready even, more or less, to stand up in her defence.
“My aunt, it appears, saw her in Paris, Mr. Durant.”
“Oh, it is Mrs. Curtis’s story then?” he said.
“You speak as if there were a great many stories about her,” said Lucy, with sudden heat.