At the present moment he flung himself back in the carriage
and prepared for sleep. He could further no plan of his by a
_tete-a-tete_ conversation with his brother-in-law. And then Mrs.
Proudie began her story about Mr. Slope, or rather recommenced it.
She was very fond of talking about this gentleman, who had once been
her pet chaplain, but was now her bitterest foe; and in telling the
story, she had sometimes to whisper to Miss Dunstable, for there
were one or two fie-fie little anecdotes about a married lady, not
altogether fit for young Mr. Robarts's ears. But Mrs. Harold Smith
insisted on having them out loud, and Miss Dunstable would gratify
that lady in spite of Mrs. Proudie's winks.
"What, kissing her hand, and he a clergyman!" said Miss Dunstable.
"I did not think they ever did such things, Mr. Robarts."
"Still waters run deepest," said Mrs. Harold Smith.
"Hush-h-h," looked, rather than spoke, Mrs. Proudie. "The grief
of spirit which that bad man caused me nearly broke my heart, and
all the while, you know, he was courting--" and then Mrs. Proudie
whispered a name.
"What, the dean's wife!" shouted Miss Dunstable, in a voice which
made the coachman of the next carriage give a chuck to his horses as
he overheard her.
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