nor yet to be regarded, in that particular light. There’s no more to be said.”
“Ah, dear me, dear me!” exclaimed Wegg with a sigh, but eyeing him while pretending to keep him company in eyeing the fire, “such is Woman! And I remember you said that night, sitting there as I sat here—said that night when your peace of mind was first laid low, that you had taken an interest in these very affairs. Such is coincidence!”
“Her father,” rejoined Venus, and then stopped to swallow more tea, “her father was mixed up in them.”
“You didn’t mention her name, sir, I think?” observed Wegg, pensively. “No, you didn’t mention her name that night.”
“Pleasant Riderhood.”
“In—deed!” cried Wegg. “Pleasant Riderhood. There’s something moving in the name. Pleasant. Dear me! Seems to express what she might