"Good morning, Mrs. Wardour," said Mary, trying to speak without
betraying emotion.
"Good morning, Miss Marston," returned Mrs. Wardour, grimly.
"Is Mr. Wardour at home?" asked Mary.
"What is your business with _him_?" rejoined the mother.
"Yes; it is with him," returned Mary, as if she had mistaken her
question, and there had been a point of exclamation after the
_What_.
"About that hussy?"
"I do not know whom you call by the name," replied Mary, who
would have been glad indeed to find a fellow-protector of Godfrey
in his mother.
"You know well enough whom I mean. Whom should it be, but Letty
Lovel!"
"My business has nothing to do with her," answered Mary.
"Whom has it to do with, then?"
"With Mr. Wardour."
"What is it?"
"Only Mr. Wardour himself must hear it. It is his business, not
mine."
"I will have nothing to do with it."
"I have no desire to give you the least trouble about it,"
rejoined Mary.
"You can't see Mr. Wardour. He's not one to be at the beck and
call of every silly woman that wants him."
"Then I will write, and tell him I called, but you would not
allow me to see him."
"I will give him a message, if you like."
"Then tell him what I have just said. I am going home to write to
him. Good morning."
She was getting into the fly again, when Mrs. Wardour, reflecting
that it must needs be something of consequence that brought her
there so early in a fly, and made her show such a determined
front to so great a personage as herself, spoke again.
Pages:
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567