The Way We Live Now - Page 285/571

'But I thought there was somebody else was to give you a home.'

'John Crumb! Oh yes, there's John Crumb. There's plenty of people to give me a home, Mr Montague.'

'You were to have been married to John Crumb, I thought.'

'Ladies is to change their minds if they like it, Mr Montague. I'm sure you've heard that before. Grandfather made me say I'd have him,-- but I never cared that for him.'

'I'm afraid, Miss Ruggles, you won't find a better man up here in London.'

'I didn't come here to look for a man, Mr Montague; I can tell you that. They has to look at me, if they want me. But I am looked after; and that by one as John Crumb ain't fit to touch.' That told the whole story. Paul when he heard the little boast was quite sure that Roger's fear about Felix was well founded. And as for John Crumb's fitness to touch Sir Felix, Paul felt that the Bungay mealman might have an opinion of his own on that matter. 'But there's Betsy a-crying upstairs, and I promised not to leave them children for one minute.'

'I will tell the Squire that I saw you, Miss Ruggles.'

'What does the Squire want o' me? I ain't nothing to the Squire,-- except that I respects him. You can tell if you please, Mr Montague, of course. I'm a coming, my darling.'

Paul made his way into Mrs Hurtle's sitting-room and wrote a note for her in pencil. He had come, he said, immediately on his return from Liverpool, and was sorry to find that she was away for the day. When should he call again? If she would make an appointment he would attend to it. He felt as he wrote this that he might very safely have himself made an appointment for the morrow; but he cheated himself into half believing that the suggestion he now made was the more gracious and civil. At any rate it would certainly give him another day. Mrs Hurtle would not return till late in the evening, and as the following day was Sunday there would be no delivery by post. When the note was finished he left it on the table, and called to Ruby to tell her that he was going. 'Mr Montague,' she said in a confidential whisper, as she tripped clown the stairs, 'I don't see why you need be saying anything about me, you know.'

'Mr Carbury is up in town looking after you.'

'What am I to Mr Carbury?'