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Then two big black shiny eyes were awake and looking at him. They looked and looked. Cuffy stood transfixed, his lips apart, his breath coming unevenly, his own eyes round with a growing fear.
Not till all the old friends had been asked after, did she press nearer home. And now, Tilly, how about yourself, my dear? Are you . . . has it . . . come! you know what I mean!
She found Tilly in a fine sitting-room on the first floor of the hotel, looking very, very prosperous . . . all silk and bugles. Purdy was out, on the business that had brought him to town: So we two have all the morning, love, to jaw in. As she spoke, Tilly whipped off Marys bonnet and mantle and carried them to the bedroom, supplying Mary meanwhile with one of her own caps, lest any one should enter the room and find her with a bare pate. Then, a second chair having been drawn up for her to put her feet on, a table with cake and wine set at her elbow, they were free to fall to work. They had not met since Tillys wedding; and Mary had now to tell the whole sad story of Johns illness and death, starting from the night on which he had unexpectedly come to consult Richard, and not omitting his queer hallucination the day before he died (an incident she had so far religiously kept from Richard, as only too likely to encourage his present craze). Next they discussed Lizzie, her behaviour during Johns illness, her attitude to the children and the birth of her boy a peevish, puny infant to whom, much against her inclination, she thinking the world of her own family and little of any other, she had been induced to give Johns name. And then Johns will, Johns infamous will! as Richard called it, by which Lizzie was left sole executrix, and trustee of Emmy and the little girls money (five thousand apiece), with free use of the interest so long as she provided a home for them under her roof. Which, as you can see, Tilly, is about as foolish a condition as the poor fellow could well have made.
I wish to God you had! You talk of decency? You need hardly worry, I think, in the case of a person who has so few decent feelings of her own. If you could have heard her! I got er! Up with the gas! Im olding er by er false air! Mahony gave the imitation with extravagant emphasis. I leave it to you to imagine the rest. That voice . . . the scattered aitches . . . the gauche and vulgar manner . . . the medium weeping and protesting . . . your friend parleying and exclaiming at the top of her lungs, too glorying in what she had done as if it was something to be proud of, and blind as a bat to the thunder-glances that were being thrown at her . . . no! I shall never forget it. She has rendered me impossible in a house where till now I have been an honoured guest.
More than once during the meal she had made as if to speak. But as certainly as she opened her lips, Richard, who was deep in The TIMES of the day before, would either absently hold out his cup to her; or attack the muffin-dish anew; or, in turning a richly crackling sheet of the paper, exclaim: Ha! Here we have it! Mr. Disraeli threatens to resign. The poor Queen will be forced to send for that turncoat Gladstone. And Mary did not wish to spoil his appetite or interrupt his reading.
Practised hand though she was at concealing surprise, and rightly attributing Richards snappishness to the want of a good hot cup of coffee, Mary could not help echoing his words, her hairbrush suspended in the air. Give up practice altogether? And, at his emphatic affirmation: But, Richard, youd soon get tired of having nothing to do.