She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. Spurling was in a state of distraction and began to abuse Jonathan so violently that her future husband was obliged to lay forcible hands upon her and drag her away. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. He was snoring stupidly. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day.
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