“No. I did not see so much of him, and I think that the manners of women are less objectionable than those of men. But I want to tell you what passed between her and me.”
“If it is about her husband’s business she ought to have held her tongue, and you had better hold yours now.”
This was not a happy beginning, but still she was determined to go on. “It was I think more about your business than his.”
“Then it was infernal impudence on her part, and you should not have listened to her for a moment.”
“You do not want to ruin her and her children!”
“What have I to do with her and her children? I did not marry her, and I am not their father. He has got to look to that.”
“She thinks that you are enticing him into risks which he cannot afford.”
“Am I doing anything for him that I ain’t doing for myself! If there is money made, will not he share it? If money has to be lost, of course he must do the same.” Lopez in stating his case omitted to say that whatever capital was now being used belonged to his partner. “But women when they get together talk all manner of nonsense. Is it likely that I shall alter my course of action because you tell me that she tells you that he tells her that he is losing money? He is a halfhearted fellow who quails at every turn against him. And when he is crying drunk I dare say he makes a poor mouth to her.”
“I think, Ferdinand, it is more than that. She says that—”
“To tell you the truth, Emily, I don’t care a d⸺ what she says. Now give me some tea.”
The roughness of this absolutely quelled her. It was not now that she was afraid of him—not at this moment, but that she was knocked down as though by a blow. She had been altogether so unused to such language that she could not get on with her matter in hand, letting the bad word pass by her as an unmeaning expletive. She wearily poured out the cup of tea and sat herself down silent. The man was too strong for her, and would be so always. She told herself at this moment that language such as that must always absolutely silence her. Then, within a few minutes, he desired her, quite cheerfully, to ask her uncle and aunt to dinner the day but one following, and also to ask Lady Eustace and Mrs. Leslie. “I will pick up a couple of men, which will make us all right,” he said.
This was in every way horrible to her. Her father had been back in town, had not been very well, and had been recommended to return to the country. He had consequently removed himself—not to Herefordshire—but to Brighton, and was now living at an hotel, almost within an hour of London. Had he been at home he certainly would not have invited Mrs. Leslie and Lady Eustace to his house. He had often expressed a feeling of dislike to the former lady in the hearing of his son-in-law, and had ridiculed his sister-in-law for allowing herself to be made acquainted with Lady Eustace, whose name had at one time been very common in the mouths of people. Emily also felt that she was hardly entitled to give a dinner-party in his house in his absence. And, after all that she had lately heard about her husband’s poverty, she could not understand how he should wish to incur the expense. “You would not ask Mrs. Leslie here!” she said.
“Why should we not ask Mrs. Leslie?”
“Papa dislikes her.”
“But ‘papa,’ as you call him, isn’t going to meet her.”
“He has said that he doesn’t know what day he may be home. And he does more than dislike her. He disapproves of her.”
“Nonsense! She is your aunt’s friend. Because your father once heard some cock-and-bull story about her, and because he has always taken upon himself to criticise your aunt’s friends, I am not to be civil to a person I like.”
“But, Ferdinand, I do not like her myself. She never was in this house till the other night.”
“Look here, my dear, Lady Eustace can be useful to me, and I cannot ask Lady Eustace without asking her friend. You do as I bid you—or else I shall do it myself.”
She paused for a moment, and then she positively refused. “I cannot bring myself to ask Mrs. Leslie to dine in this house. If she comes to dine with you, of course I shall sit at the table, but she will be sure to see that she is not welcome.”
“It seems to me that you are determined to go against me in everything I propose.”
“I don’t think you would say that if you knew how miserable you made me.”
“I tell you that that other woman can be very useful to me.”
“In what way useful?”
“Are you jealous, my dear?”
“Certainly not of Lady Eustace—nor of any woman. But it seems so odd that such a person’s services should be required.”
“Will you do as I tell you, and ask them? You can go round and tell your aunt about it. She knows that I mean to ask them. Lady Eustace is a very rich woman, and is disposed to do a little in commerce. Now do you understand?”
“Not in the least,” said Emily.
“Why shouldn’t a woman who has money buy coffee as well as buy shares?”
“Does she buy shares?”
“By George, Emily, I think that you’re a fool.”
“I dare say I am, Ferdinand. I do not in the least know what it all means. But I do know this, that you ought not, in papa’s absence, to ask people to dine here whom he particularly dislikes, and whom he would not wish to have in his house.”
“You think that I am to be governed
