What I wish is simply to give you notice of my own state of mind! Take it to heart, dear Lavinia. Beware of the just resentment of a deluded fortune-hunter!” “I can’t say I expected it,” said Mrs. Penniman. “And I had a sort of foolish hope that you would come home without that odious ironical tone with which you treat the most sacred subjects.” “Don’t undervalue irony, it is often of great use. It is not, however, always necessary, and I will show you how gracefully I can lay it aside. I should like to know whether you think Morris Townsend will hang on.” “I will answer you with your own weapons,” said Mrs. Penniman. “You had better wait and see!” “Do you call such a speech as that one of my own weapons? I never said anything so rough.” “He will hang on long enough to make you very uncomfortable, then.” “My dear Lavinia,” exclaimed the Doctor, “do you call that irony? I call it pugilism.” Mrs. Penniman, however, in spite of her pugilism, was a good deal frightened, and she took counsel of her fears. Her brother meanwhile took counsel, with many reservations, of Mrs. Almond, to whom he was no less generous than to Lavinia, and a good deal more communicative. “I suppose she has had him there all the while,” he said. “I must look into the state of my wine! You needn’t mind telling me now; I have already said all I mean to say to her on the subject.” “I believe he was in the house a good deal,” Mrs. Almond answered. “But you must admit that your leaving Lavinia quite alone was a great change for her, and that it was natural she should want some society.” “I do admit that, and that is why I shall make no row about the wine; I shall set it down as compensation to Lavinia. She is capable of telling me that she drank it all herself. Think of the inconceivable bad taste, in the circumstances, of that fellow making free with the house—or coming there at all! If that doesn’t describe him, he is indescribable.” “His plan is to get what he can. Lavinia will have supported him for a year,” said Mrs. Almond. “It’s so much gained.” “She will have to support him for the rest of his life, then!” cried the Doctor. “But without wine, as they say at the _tables d’hôte_.” “Catherine tells me he has set up a business, and is making a great deal of money.” The Doctor stared. “She has not told me that—and Lavinia didn’t deign. Ah!” he cried, “Catherine has given me up. Not that it matters, for all that the business amounts to.” “She has not given up Mr. Townsend,” said Mrs. Almond. “I saw that in the first half minute. She has come home exactly the same.” “Exactly the same; not a grain more intelligent. She didn’t notice a stick or a stone all the while we were away—not a picture nor a view, not a statue nor a cathedral.” “How could she notice? She had other things to think of; they are never for an instant out of her mind. She touches me very much.”