“It's not I; it's Mr. Pudney!” cried Mrs. Saltram with a flush. “It's his own idea.”
“Then why couldn't he send the letter to you to be delivered?”
Mrs. Saltram's colour deepened; she gave me another hard look. “You must make that out for yourself.”
I made it out quickly enough. “It's a denunciation?”
“A real lady doesn't betray her husband!” this virtuous woman exclaimed.
I burst out laughing, and I fear my laugh may have had an effect of impertinence.
“Especially to Miss Anvoy, who's so easily shocked? Why do such things concern her?” I asked, much at a loss.
“Because she's there, exposed to all his craft. Mr. and Mrs. Pudney have been watching this; they feel she may be taken in.”
“Thank you for all the rest of us! What difference can it make, when she has lost her power to contribute?”
Again Mrs. Saltram considered; then very nobly: “There are other things in the world than money,” she remarked. This hadn't occurred to her so long as the young lady had any; but she now added, with a glance at my letter, that Mr. and Mrs. Pudney doubtless explained their motives. “It's all in kindness,” she continued as she got up.