Mrs. Denham.
But where was she going?
Fitzgerald.
Oh, that's the cream o' the joke! I had a great piece of work to get
out of her what ailed her, an'--an'--would you believe it?--that
Undine of yours--that Undine of yours was going back to her native
element. The--the mite was looking for the Thames, to drown herself!
Mrs. Denham.
To drown herself?
Fitzgerald.
Ay. She told me, "Mother said--said she was too wicked to live--an'
she--she didn't want her any more." By Jove! Mrs. Denham, you must
be careful what you say to that imp. She'll take you at your
word--eh?
Mrs. Denham.
How can we ever thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald?
Denham.
Well, we can laugh at it now; but it was rather a ghastly bit of
tragi-comedy. A thousand thanks, Fitz, old fellow!
Fitzgerald.
Well, I hope she's none the worse for it. I carried her home on my
back; an' I can tell you her heart was beating like--like the heart
of a hunted mouse. I must be off, Arthur; I have a model coming.
You'll bring the drawing round, eh? I must have it by five o'clock.
Denham.
I have about ten minutes' work on the background--the figures are
all right.
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