Vavasour will be anxious about you. And mind! With regard to her first
of all, sir, and then with regard to other matters--as long, and only
as long, as you remember that you are John Briggs of Whitbury, I shall
be the first to forget it. There is my hand, for old acquaintance'
sake."
Vavasour took the proffered hand coldly, paused a moment, and then
wrung it in silence, and hurried away home.
"Have I played my ace ill after all?" said Tom, sitting down to
consider. "As for whether I should have played it all, that's no
business of mine now. Madam Might-have-been may see to that. But did
I play ill? for if I did, I may try a new lead yet. Ought I to have
twitted him about his wife? If he's venomous, it may only make matters
worse; and still worse if he be suspicious. I don't think he was
either in old times; but vanity will make a man so, and it may have
made him. Well, I must only ingratiate myself all the more with her;
and find out, too, whether she has his secret as well as I. What I am
most afraid of is my having told him plainly that he was in my power;
it's apt to make sprats of his size flounce desperately, in the mere
hope of proving themselves whales after all, if it's only to their
miserable selves. Never mind; he can't break my tackle; and besides,
that gripe of the hand seemed to indicate that the poor wretch was
beat, and thought himself let off easily--as indeed he is. We'll hope
so.
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