“And so,” said Rodney, “as the greater includes the less, he agrees with you now. I am admiring your self-possession, Varney: you haven’t the least idea what we were talking about.”
Varney laughed and reddened, and Margaret looked at him with playful reproach.
“Haven’t you?” she asked. “But how deceitful of you to answer so readily. I was remarking that lawyers have a way of making a solemn parade and exactness and secrecy when there is no occasion. That was my statement.”
“And it is perfectly correct,” said Varney. “You know it is, Rodney. You’re always doing it. I’ve noticed it constantly.”
“Oh, this is mere vindictiveness because he unmasked your deceit. I wasn’t alluding to Mr. Rodney, or any one in particular. I was just speaking generally.”
“But,” said Varney, “something must have suggested the reflection.”
“Certainly. Something did: a letter that I have just received from Mr. Penfield; a most portentous document, and all about nothing.”
At the mention of the lawyer’s name Varney’s attention came to a sharp focus.
“It seems,” Margaret continued, “that Dan, when he wrote to Mr. Penfield the other day, put the wrong letter in the envelope; a silly thing to do, but we all do silly things sometimes.”
“I don’t,” said Rodney.