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Updated: June 11, 2025
"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast." "You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?" He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to like Agg. "Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little embarrassed. "Will she be up?" "You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the time, isn't it?" They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk.
She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast with one another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and liked it. "Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking hands. George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her father's house.
The National Intelligencer had been established as a Catholic organ, with John Agg, an Englishman of great ability, as its editor, and Richard Houghton, afterward the popular editor of the Boston Atlas, as its Congressional reporter. In 1825 the paper was purchased by Peter Force and became the "hand-organ" of all the elements of opposition to General Jackson.
From one studio came the sound of a mandolin he thought it was a mandolin and the sound seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was perhaps in bed; he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But no! He would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know anything about Marguerite?"
He had never seen her hysterical, but a suspicion took him that she might be capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with that kind of girl, he thought sagaciously. In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, feigning irritation: "What on earth does she want?" "Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited sometimes, you know."
"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody wants to stop people from falling in love. If Mr. Haim chooses to go mad about a charwoman, when his wife, and such a wife, 's been dead barely three years, that's his concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half his age, and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent.
"How soon d'ye think she'll be back?" "I I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd have been back before this." "I'll run round there," he said curtly. Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her attitude increased his disturbance. When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his mysterious qualms were intensified.
That's not respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered. George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous doctrine implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man of the world, experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and all his presence of mind was needed to preserve a casual, cool demeanour.
All that Agg had said recurred to him once more. But what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on him. "Why not?" he menaced. "It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must see that!" "Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're engaged. You've got the first call on me, and I've got the first call on you not your father."
Marguerite herself stood nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, who was seated. The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in her somewhat deep voice to Marguerite: "I must go." Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a broad-minded and turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal headship of a hard-working and successful barrister.
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