“All over the pictures and the floor, and all over your coat. I’d like to speak to them housemaids.”
“Ring for tea, then.” Dick felt his way to the one chair he used by custom.
Bessie saw the action and, as far as in her lay, was touched. But there remained always a keen sense of new-found superiority, and it was in her voice when she spoke.
“How long have you been like this?” she said wrathfully, as though the blindness were some fault of the housemaids.
“How?”
“As you are.”
“The day after you went away with the check, almost as soon as my picture was finished; I hardly saw her alive.”
“Then they’ve been cheating you ever since, that’s all. I know their nice little ways.”
A woman may love one man and despise another, but on general feminine principles she will do her best to save the man she despises from being defrauded. Her loved one can look to himself, but the other man, being obviously an idiot, needs protection.
“I don’t think Mr. Beeton cheats much,” said Dick. Bessie was flouncing up and down the room, and he was conscious of a keen sense of enjoyment as he heard the swish of her skirts and the light step between.