'You have made an allusion to Mr.Tupman--explain it.' 'Never!' exclaimed Jingle, with a professional (i.e., theatrical) air.
'Never!' and, by way of showing that he had no desire to be questioned further, he drew a chair close to that of the spinster aunt and sat down.
'Mr.Jingle,' said the aunt, 'I entreat--I implore you, if there is any dreadful mystery connected with Mr.Tupman, reveal it.' 'Can I,' said Mr.Jingle, fixing his eyes on the aunt's face--'can I see--lovely creature--sacrificed at the shrine--heartless avarice!' He appeared to be struggling with various conflicting emotions for a few seconds, and then said in a low voice-- 'Tupman only wants your money.' 'The wretch!' exclaimed the spinster, with energetic indignation.

(Mr.
Jingle's doubts were resolved.

She HAD money.) 'More than that,' said Jingle--'loves another.' 'Another!' ejaculated the spinster.

'Who ?' 'Short girl--black eyes--niece Emily.' There was a pause.
Now, if there was one individual in the whole world, of whom the spinster aunt entertained a mortal and deep-rooted jealousy, it was this identical niece.

The colour rushed over her face and neck, and she tossed her head in silence with an air of ineffable contempt.