“You shall proceed in your own way. You claim a right to ask me do I mean to tell you. Do I mean to tell you what?”
“That you are a man of property?”
“No.”
“Then you married me on false pretences?”
“So be it. Next comes what you mean to say. Do you mean to say you are a woman of property?”
“No.”
“Then you married me on false pretences.”
“If you were so dull a fortune-hunter that you deceived yourself, or if you were so greedy and grasping that you were over-willing to be deceived by appearances, is it my fault, you adventurer?” the lady demands, with great asperity.
“I asked Veneering, and he told me you were rich.”
“Veneering!” with great contempt. “And what does Veneering know about me!”
“Was he not your trustee?”
“No. I have no trustee, but the one you saw on the day when you fraudulently married me. And his trust is not a very difficult one, for it is only an annuity of a hundred and fifteen pounds. I think there are some odd shillings or pence, if you are very particular.”
Mr. Lammle bestows a by no means loving look upon the partner of his joys and sorrows, and he mutters something; but checks himself.