"Oh, Hugh, how you disappoint me! What has become of your kind feeling,
your sense of justice, your consideration for others? Poor Mrs.
Vimpany!"

"What has Mrs. Vimpany to do with it?"

Iris was indignant.

"What has Mrs. Vimpany to do with it?" she repeated. "After all that I
owe to that good creature's kindness; after I have promised to
accompany her--she has so few happy days, poor soul!--on excursions to
places of interest in the neighbourhood, do you expect me to leave
her--no! it's worse than that--do you expect me to throw her aside like
an old dress that I have worn out? And this after I have so unjustly,
so ungratefully suspected her in my own thoughts? Shameful! shameful!"

With some difficulty, Mountjoy controlled himself. After what she had
just said, his lips were sealed on the subject of Mrs. Vimpany's true
character. He could only persist in appealing to her duty to her
father.

"You are allowing your quick temper to carry you to strange
extremities," he answered. "If I think it of more importance to hasten
a reconciliation with your father than to encourage you to make
excursions with a lady whom you have only known for a week or two, what
have I done to deserve such an outbreak of anger? Hush! Not a word more
now! Here is the lady herself."

As he spoke, Mrs. Vimpany joined them; returning from her interview
with her husband at the inn. She looked first at Iris, and at once