CHAPTER XVII
[THE MARCHIONESS IN SPITE OF HERSELF]
I could see that the young gentleman didn't altogether know what to make of Mr. FitzHoward. I'm not sure myself that I wouldn't just as soon he'd left us alone together. Anyhow I did wish he wouldn't keep on everlastingly talking about theatres, just as though sensible people cared about such things.
The young gentleman said to me--
'Miss Desmond has been telling me such a very remarkable story, that, though I fear that my presence here at this moment may be the occasion to you of inconvenience, I felt myself compelled to endeavour to learn, from your own lips, with the least possible delay, exactly how the matter stands. Is it a fact that you are my brother's wife?'
'I know nothing about that, sir. My husband called himself James Merrett; and it was under that name I married him.'
'So I'm told. You have your husband's portrait, I hear. May I see it?' I gave him one. 'Is this the portrait of your husband?'
'It is.'
'Then, as it is certainly the portrait of my brother, it seems that you must be my sister--or sister-in-law, whichever you please. And you've a son.'
I showed him Jimmy. He stood him on the table in front of him. Jimmy did not seem a bit afraid.