“Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. "Perhaps that would have been best. She’ll tell everyone soon, if only to gain herself some attention!” He cried under his breath. I'm nearly nabbing you. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. But I never betray an old customer.
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