When he returned to the sitting-room, the young lady was not unnaturally offended. He could make allowances for her being a little out of temper at the slight that had been put on her; but he was inexpressibly disconcerted by the manner—almost the coarse manner—in which she expressed herself.
“I have been talking to your wife’s maid, while you have been away,” she said. “I find you have married an old lady for her money. She is jealous of me, of course?”
“Let me beg you to alter your opinion,” he answered. “You are wronging my wife; she is incapable of any such feeling as you attribute to her.”
The young lady laughed. “At any rate you are a good husband,” she said satirically. “Suppose you own the truth? Wouldn’t you like her better if she was young and pretty like me?”
He was not mere
