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Updated: May 21, 2025
Sowler had seen him look back at the lady and gentleman in the corner, and was listening attentively to catch the first words that fell from his lips. "Which is Mr. Farnaby?" she asked. "The man in the corner there, with the white silk wrapper over his mouth, and his hat down to his eyebrows." Mrs. Sowler looked round for a moment to make sure that Jervy's man and her man were one and the same.
People remembered their coughs and colds, and talked in whispers, and looked about them with a vague feeling of relief in staring at each other. Mrs. Sowler, hitherto content with furtively glancing at Mr. Farnaby from time to time, now began to look at him more boldly, as he stood in his corner with his eyes fixed sternly on the platform at the other end of the hall.
A share of my pocket-money is always at your service. "Your friend, "Very nice indeed," said Jervy, handing the letter back, and yawning as he did it. "And convenient, too, if we run short of money. Ah, here's the waiter with the supper, at last! Now, Mrs. Sowler, there's a time for everything it's time to wake up."
Have you seen anything of him lately?" Mrs. Farnaby, steadily on her guard, deferred answering the question. "Why do you want to know?" she said. The reply was instantly ready. "Because I have reason to believe he has bolted, with your money in his pocket." "He has done nothing of the sort," Mrs. Farnaby rejoined. "Has he got your money?" Mrs. Sowler persisted.
"A nice-looking fellow," said the fiery-faced woman, "I should like to kiss him." "He's too civil by half," grumbled Mrs. Sowler; "I wish I had my sixpence back in my pocket." "Give him time." whispered Jervy, "and he'll warm up. I say, Phoebe, he doesn't begin like a man who is going to break down. I don't expect there will be much to laugh at to-night." "What an admirable speaker!" said Mrs.
Sowler proceeded, with a ferocious assumption of courtesy, "how old you are, miss? You're young enough and pretty enough not to mind answering to your age, I'm sure." Even Jervy's villainous experience of the world failed to forewarn him of what was coming. Phoebe, it is needless to say, instantly fell into the trap. "Twenty-four," she replied, "next birthday."
She stood pale and still and silent, with the unopened letter in her hand. Watching her with malicious curiosity, Mrs. Sowler coolly possessed herself of the letter, looked at it, and recognized the writing in her turn. "Stop!" she cried, as the servant was on the point of going out. "There's no stamp on this letter. Was it brought by hand? Is the messenger waiting?"
She clutched the coin, and became friendly and familiar in a moment. "Help me downstairs, deary," she said, "and put me into a cab. I'm afraid of the night air." "One word more, before I put you into a cab," said Jervy. "What did you really do with the child?" Mrs. Sowler grinned hideously, and whispered her reply, in the strictest confidence. "Sold her to Moll Davies, for five-and-sixpence."
"Why, it must be ten years, Mrs. Sowler, since I last saw you! What have you been doing?" The woman frowned at him as she answered. "Can't you look at me, and see? Starving!" She eyed his gaudy watch and chain greedily. "Money don't seem to be scarce with you. Have you made your fortune in America?" He laid his hand on her arm, and pressed it warningly. "Hush!" he said, under his breath.
"You here?" he exclaimed, with an oath. Before he could say more, Phoebe whispered to him on the other side, "What a horrid old creature! How did you ever come to know her?" At the same moment, Mrs. Sowler reiterated her request in more peremptory language. "Do you hear, Jervy do you hear? Sit a little closer." Jervy apparently had his reasons for treating the expression of Mrs.
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