"
This was a lie--a little white lie; one of those small exaggerations of
which people make no account; but Christian believed it, and it seemed
to wrap her round as with a cold mist of fear. All Avonsbridge talking
of her--her, Dr. Grey's wife, who had his honor as well as her own in
her keeping--talking about herself and Sir Edwin Uniacke! What? how
much? how had the tale come about? how could it be met?
With a sudden instinct of self-preservation, she forcibly summoned
back her composure. She knew with whom she had to deal. She must
guard every look, every word.
"Will you tell me. Miss Gascoigne, exactly who is talking about me,
and what they say? I am sure I have never given occasion for it."
"Never? Are you quite certain of that?"
"Quite certain. Who said I had 'a very close acquaintance'--were not
these your words--with Sir Edwin Uniacke?"
"Himself."
"Himself!"
Then Christian recognized the whole amount of her difficulty--nay, her
danger; for she was in the power, not of a gentleman, but of a villain.
Any man must have been such who, under the circumstances, could
have boasted of their former acquaintance, or even referred to it at all.
"Kiss and tell?" runs the disdainful proverb. And even the worldliest of
men, in their low code of honor, count the thing base and ignoble.
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