“Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted now.”
“Name the day, the hour, when I may.”
“That I am not at liberty to do.”
“What ails her? Where is Jamie?”
“Jamie is here—in good hands.”
“And Judith.”
“She is in good hands.”
“In good hands!” exclaimed Mr. Menaida, “I should like to see the good, clean hands worn by anyone in this house, except my dear, innocent little Judith. I must and will see her. I must know from her own lips how she is. I must see that she is happy—or at least not maltreated.”
“Your words are an insult to me, her aunt, and to Captain Coppinger, her husband,” said Miss Trevisa, haughtily.
“Let me have a word with Captain Coppinger.”