“One more than there used to be, for my salvation,” the bridegroom said; and then added, with a laugh, “but no other like this one, Meg—Mrs. Piercey of Greyshott——”
“Patty!” cried Margaret, under her breath.
“If you dare to be so familiar with so great a lady—the heroine of the trial, poor Uncle Giles’ good angel——”
“Oh, don’t be bitter, Gerald! It is all over and done with; and who knows, if it had been otherwise——”
“Whether we should ever have come together?” he said: “you know best, so far as that goes, my love; and if it might have been so, good luck to Greyshott, and I am glad we have not got it. Yes, there she is, the identical Patty; and none the better for her success, I should say, looking very much bored and rather pale.”
“Who is with her?” asked Margaret.
“There is nobody with her that I can see. No, she is quite alone, and bored, as I told you; and in a diamond necklace,” he said with a laugh.
“Alone, and with a diamond necklace, in the dining-room of a hotel!”
“Well, why not? To show it and herself, of course; and probably a much better way than any other in her power to show them.”
“Oh, Gerald, don’t be so merciless. She has got your inheritance; but still, it was really Uncle Giles’ will, and she was kind to him—even old Dunning could not deny that. And if Gervase had lived——”