“Much more so than you give me credit for.”
“My non-success, you mean.”
“I do not mean it.”
“It is quite right that you should,” I said bitterly. “I have no claim upon your interest.”
“A very strong one, I assure you.”
“Melton’s the man,” assuming a savage gayety. “How jolly he will feel if he wins! how delighted to bear the news to his lady-love!”
“Does it not strike you, Mr. Ormonde, that your last observation is upon the borderland of—what shall I call it?”
“Truth,” I suggested.
She did not deign to reply to me, but, turning to my mother, expressed a fear that she should leave Kilkenley upon the following day.
“I will not hear of it,” said my mother stoutly.