"I really don't know," he declared.

"I only repeat what I've heard once or twice up in London." "Tell me exactly what they say," demanded the girl, with quick interest.
Her companion hesitated for a few seconds.

"Well, whatever has been said, I've always denied; for, as you know, I am a friend of both Lady Heyburn and of your father." The girl's nostrils dilated slightly.

Friend! Why, was not this man her father's false friend?
Was he not behind every sinister action of Lady Heyburn's, and had not she herself, with her own ears, one day at Park Street, four years ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up to him.

Fortunately for me, he already has one foot in the grave.
Otherwise I couldn't tolerate this life at all!" Those cruel words of her stepmother's, spoken to this man who was at that moment her companion, recurred to her.