Nay! she would not even frame that thought.
Marmaduke had been kind to her; she could but hope that temptation such as that, would never come his way.
Hymn-of-Praise Busy broke in on her meditations.

His nasal tones--which had a singular knack of irritating her as a rule--struck quite pleasingly on her ear, as a welcome interruption to the conflict of her thoughts.
"Master Skyffington, ma'am," he said in his usual drawly voice, "he is on his way to Dover, and desired his respects, an you wish to see him." "Yes! yes! I'll see Master Skyffington," she said with alacrity, rising from her chair, "go apprise Sir Marmaduke, and ask Master Skyffington to come within." She was all agitation now, eager, excited, and herself went forward to meet the quaint, little wizened figure which appeared in the doorway.
Master Skyffington, attorney-at-law, was small and thin--looked doubly so, in fact, in the black clothes which he wore.

His eyes were blue and watery, his manner peculiarly diffident.

He seemed to present a perpetual apology to the world for his own existence therein.
Even now as Mistress de Chavasse seemed really overjoyed to see him, he backed his meager person out of the doorway as she approached, whereupon she--impatiently--clutched his arm and dragged him forward into the hall.
"Sit down there, master," she said, speaking with obvious agitation, and almost pushing the poor little man off his feet whilst dragging him to a chair.

"Sir Marmaduke will see you anon, but 'twas a kind thought to come and bring me news." "Hem! ...