'I say, what does she mean?--ain't that damned impertinent?' he stammered. 'What did she think I was going to say? Does she suppose I would say any harm before--before _her_? Dash it, does she suppose I would give away my wife to the servants?' Then he added, 'And I wouldn't say any harm before you, Laura. You are too good and too nice and I like you too much!'
'Won't you come downstairs? won't you have some tea?' the girl asked, uneasily.
'No, no, I want to stay here--I like this place,' he replied, very gently and reasoningly. 'It's a deuced nice place--it's an awfully jolly room. It used to be this way--always--when I was a little chap. I was a rough one, my dear; I wasn't a pretty little lamb like that pair. I think it's because you look after them--that's what makes 'em so sweet. The one in my time--what was her name? I think it was Bald or Bold--I rather think she found me a handful. I used to kick her shins--I was decidedly vicious. And do _you_ see it's kept so well, Laura?' he went on, looking round him. ''Pon my soul, it's the prettiest room in the house. What does she want to go to Paris for when she has got such a charming house? Now can you answer me that, Laura?'
'I suppose she has gone to get some clothes: her dressmaker lives in Paris, you know.'
'Dressmaker? Clothes? Why, she has got whole rooms full of them. Hasn't she got whole rooms full of them?'
'Speaking of clothes I must go and change mine,' said Laura. 'I have been out in the rain--I have been to Plash--I'm decidedly damp.'
'Oh, you have been to Plash? You have seen my mother? I hope she's in very good health.' But before the girl could reply to this he went on: 'Now, I want you to guess who she's in Paris with. Motcomb saw them together--at that place, what's his name? close to the Madeleine.' And as Laura was silent, not wishing at all to guess, he continued--'It's the ruin of any woman, you know; I can't think what she has got in her head.' Still Laura said nothing, and as he had hold of her arm, she having turned away, she led him this time out of the room. She had a horror of the name, the name that was in her mind and that was apparently on his lips, though his tone was so singular, so contemplative. 'My dear girl, she's with Lady Ringrose--what do you say to that?' he exclaimed, as they passed along the corridor to the staircase.