‘I hope not, Marie.’
’You needn’t be a bit afraid. I would not do it if they were to kill me. I hate him,—and I do so love you.’ Then she leaned with all her weight upon his arm and looked up again into his beautiful face. ’You will speak to papa; won’t you?’
‘Will that be the best way?’
‘I suppose so. How else?’
‘I don’t know whether Madame Melmotte ought not—’
’Oh dear no. Nothing would induce her. She is more afraid of him than anybody;—more afraid of him than I am. I thought the gentleman always did that.’
‘Of course I’ll do it,’ said Sir...