«Oh, Mr. Wynne, he won’t see either his mother or his uncle! I found a letter from him at the hotel, saying he’d left Paris—and I don’t even know where he’s gone!... Can’t you, can’t Mr. McAllister, do anything to avert this miserable disaster? You don’t know how he loves you both—you should see his letters to me and to his sister! they are always full of you!»
«Indeed, Mrs. Bagot—you can count on McAllister and me for doing everything in our power! But it is of no use our trying to influence your son—I feel quite sure of that! It is to her we must make our appeal.»
«Oh, Mr. Wynne! to a washer-woman—a figure model—and Heaven knows what besides! and with such a chance as this!»
«Mrs. Bagot, you don’t know her? She may have been all that. But strange as it may seem to you—and seems to me,
