“But the dear child,” said Lammle, with a crooked smile, “ought to have been open with her benefactor and benefactress. The darling love ought to have reposed unbounded confidence in her benefactor and benefactress.”
Sophronia shook her head again.
“Well! Women understand women,” said her husband, rather disappointed. “I don’t press it. It might be the making of our fortune to make a clean sweep of them both. With me to manage the property, and my wife to manage the people—Whew!”
Again shaking her head, she returned: “They will never quarrel with the girl. They will never punish the girl. We must accept the girl, rely upon it.”
“Well!” cried Lammle, shrugging his shoulders, “so be it: only always remember that we don’t want her.”
“Now, the sole remaining question is,” said Mrs. Lammle, “when shall I begin?”
“You cannot begin too soon, Sophronia. As I have told you, the condition of our affairs is desperate, and may be blown upon at any moment.”
“I must secure Mr. Boffin alone, Alfred. If his wife was present, she would throw oil upon the waters. I know I should fail to move him to an angry outburst, if his wife was there. And as to the girl herself—as I am going to betray her confidence, she is equally out of the question.”
“It wouldn’t do to write for an appointment?” said Lammle.
“No, certainly not. They would wonder among themselves why I wrote, and I want to have him wholly unprepared.”