hands. Let me tell you that, for your guidance. The information may be of use to you, if only to prevent your credulity, in judging another man’s truthfulness by your own, from being imposed upon.”
“Impossible!” cries Twemlow, standing aghast. “How do you know it?”
“I scarcely know how I know it. The whole train of circumstances seemed to take fire at once, and show it to me.”
“Oh! Then you have no proof.”
“It is very strange,” says Mrs. Lammle, coldly and boldly, and with some disdain, “how like men are to one another in some things, though their characters are as different as can be! No two men can have less affinity between them, one would say, than Mr. Twemlow and my husband. Yet my husband replies to me ‘You have no proof,’ and Mr. Twemlow replies to me with the very same words!”