'Sir,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones with great stateliness, rising, rustling, and curtsying, 'under the painful circumstances, as your daughter says that she intends to leave at once, bear in mind that I have not received a notice of any sort—I am quite ashamed to seem mercenary—and positively I know nothing about money and business and all that sort of thing—but I have been drawn into numerous expenses to make all ready to accommodate your daughter. And I regret to say that I expect——'
'The soup-tureen to be paid for,' threw in Sylvana.
'Certainly! certainly!' said the trembling man, 'anything, only do not retain me longer. I am very unwell, and my cravat is—is—is all on one side. I confess everything. Jane is my wife, and Winefred is my daughter. So they both have a right to my name.'
CHAPTER XLVI
OVER A TEA-TABLE
Winefred accompanied her father to his lodgings. These were comfortable and well-situated, spacious and elegantly furnished; clearly not chosen with a view to economy.
He bowed and made her enter, with old-fashioned courtesy, and then ordered tea.
A certain amount of constraint existed between them, and yet he had lost much of his timidity of manner since he had been forced to avow the nature of his relation to Jane. The Rubicon was passed. He had dismissed his ships.
It may, however, be questioned whether even when shaken to the undoing of his cravat and the loosening of his teeth he would have made the admission but for two considerations.