“Mrs. Rock is lying down,” she explained, “but I thought that it might be something important, and you would not mind seeing me.”
“Not at all,” said Hewson, with what seemed to him afterwards superfluous politeness, and then they both waited until he could formulate his business, Miss Hernshaw drooping forward, and looking down in a way that he had found was most characteristic of her. “It _is_ something important--at least it is important to me. Miss Hernshaw, may I ask whether you have done anything--it seems a very unwarrantable question--about St. Johnswort?”
“About buying it?”
“Yes. It will be useless to make any offer for it.”
“Why will it be useless to do that?”
“Because--because I have bought it myself.”
“You have bought it?”
“Yes; when he came to me last night, and made those representations--Well, in short, I have bought the place.”
“To save him from losing money by that--story?”
“Well--yes. I ought to have told you the fact this morning, as soon as you said you would buy the place. I know that you like people to be perfectly truthful. But--I couldn’t--without seeming to--brag.”