THE CRISIS
"Naturally," said Melville, rather inconsecutively. "And he doesn't?"
"Doesn't stir."
"Does he see—the other lady?"
"We don't know. We can't watch him. But if he does he's clever"
"Why?"
"There's about a hundred blessed relatives of his in the place—came like crows for a corpse. I never saw such a lot. Talk about a man of good old family—it's decaying! I never saw such a high old family in my life. Aunts they are chiefly."
"Aunts?"
"Aunts. Say, they've rallied round him. How they got hold of it I don't know. Like vultures. Unless the mater— But they're here. They're all at him—using their influence with him, threatening to cut off legacies and all that. There's one old girl at Bate's, Lady Poynting Mallow—least bit horsey, but about as all right as
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