"Well, sir," he said, leaning back comfortably, "we're tiled in, as masons say, so I shall be glad to hear what you have to tell me. Also, I am obliged to you for seeking out this especial case for me."
"Two special cases, my boy, two special cases," said Mr. Dimsdale, wagging his head and looking more like a Chinese mandarin than ever. "One has to do with me--I'll tell you about it later; the other has to do with Mrs. Bedge and her adopted son."
"Maunders!" cried Vernon, astonished to find that his premonition was coming true. "You don't mean Constantine?"
"Yes, I do, Arthur; of course I do. Young Maunders. I never did like that boy somehow in spite of his good looks and polite manners. After all, he's half a Greek, and I don't like the Greeks either. They're nearly as tricky as the Armenians, and that's saying a lot. All the same, I'm sorry for the sake of Emily. I'm an old friend of Emily. Ha, ha! I was in love with her before she married Bedge. He was a Levantine merchant, you know, dealt in currants and cherry jam and all the rest of it. Not a bad chap, from what I remember of him, but far too old a husband for Emily----"
"Do you mean Mrs. Bedge?" asked Vernon, vainly endeavouring to stem the flow of the old man's speech.
"Of course I mean Mrs. Bedge. I call her Emily because--ha! ha!--I was in love with her. She was a handsome girl in those years, and a good one. Why, look how she adopted that rascal--I can't help thinking young Maunders a rascal, though he does want to marry Ida, which is not to be thought of. Yes, yes! Emily always was good. I don't believe a word of it, not a word." And Mr. Dimsdale, bringing his fist down on the table, glared at his companion through his pince-nez.
"You don't believe a word of what?" asked Vernon soothingly.
"I'm coming to that; I'm coming to that. Don't worry me and hurry me." Mr. Dimsdale rubbed his nose in a vexed manner. "Young Maunders, now. Eh, what? Have you seen young Maunders lately?"
"It's odd you should ask that," said Vernon slowly, "because I have just parted from him at the Athenian Club."
"Don't have anything to do with him, Arthur; he's a bad lot, a very bad lot indeed. Oh, it's nothing that he has done. I wouldn't say to anyone else what I am saying to you. But I can read character, and I have observed Master Constantine. He's so selfish that he would boil Emily for his own gratification, if it pleased him. And she would let herself be boiled, too; she's as silly over the scamp as he is selfish towards her. Why do you cultivate his society? Eh, what? It's wrong and stupid; yes, yes, stupid and wrong."