Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain
conclusion, which the simpleton of a writer has been quite
innocent of suspecting from the beginning to the end. Of that
conclusion I am so sure that I will forfeit my place if it does
not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has been practicing upon the folly
and conceit of this young man, and that she has tried to shield
herself from discovery by purposely encouraging him to suspect
the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; and I will even
go further. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to why
Mrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or
with a part of it. Nobody can look at that lady, sir, without
being struck by the great taste and beauty of her dress--"
As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his
powers of speech again. He cut me short directly as haughtily as
if he had been a duke instead of a stationer.
"Try some other means of justifying your vile calumny against my
wife," says he. "Her milliner's bill for the past year is on my
file of receipted accounts at this moment."
"Excuse me, sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I
must tell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within
the daily experience of our office. A married lady who wishes it
can keep two accounts at her dressmaker's; one is the account
which her husband sees and pays; the other is the private
account, which contains all the extravagant items, and which the
wife pays secretly, by installments, whenever she can.
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