"Through the help of this girl here, stupid, and by the bewitching charms of your handsome niece from India, who has returned to England with her large fortune inherited from the British East India Company."
The lawyer stared at his wife blankly, then genuine concern for that lady's health getting the better of his amazement, he said: "Can I fetch you your salts or anything, my love? Your pounce box or your vinaigrette? for I declare that you are wandering in your mind, my poor dear. I never had a niece in all my life, my love, and as for the British East India Company—well, I have heard of it, of course, but little else indeed—very little else."
"Well, for to-day you will have to know a good deal about it," said Mrs. Whyllie, "so you had better step into the library and read up its history, and as to your niece, your favourite niece, you will please do me the favour of remembering that you possess her, too, sir. Now, then, Mistress," addressing Imogene, "as soon as this husband of mine has taken himself off, I'll tell you your part in this affair." Taking the hint, the lawyer beat a retreat to the library, gladly leaving the difficult business in the hands of his wife. "Now, girl," she went on when they were alone, "I suppose I shouldn't be very far wrong if I surmised that you are head over ears in love with this young man that the press gang has taken, eh?"
