"The gentle blood always shows itself, doesn't it?" she said. "I've got the real instincts of a lady, haven't I? Oh, it was beautiful while it lasted. And every day more and more like my father."
"Arnold," cried poor Clara, crushed, "help me!"
"Come," said Arnold, "you had better go at once."
"I won't laugh at you," said Lotty. "It's a shame, and you're a good old thing. But it did me good, it really did, to hear all about the gentle blood. Come, Joe. Let us go away quietly."
She took her husband's arm. Joe was standing sullen and desperate. Mr. Chalker was right. It wanted very little more to make him fall upon the whole party, and go off with a fight.
"Young woman," said Lala Roy, "you had better not go outside the house with the man. It will be well for you to wait until he has gone."
"Why? He is my husband, whatever we have done, and I'm not ashamed of him."
"Is he your husband? Ask him what I meant when I said his home was at Shadwell."
"Come, Lotty," said Joe, with a curious change of manner. "Let us go at once."
"Wait," Lala repeated. "Wait, young woman, let him go first. Pray—pray let him go first."