"Now get to business," said Mrs. Wilders, in a snarling, ill-tempered
way; "let's have it out."
"It's a pity you are out of humour this morning," observed Mr. Hobson,
with a provoking forbearance. "I have come to find fault."
Mrs. Wilders shrugged her shoulders, implying that she did not care.
"It may seem ungracious, but I must take you to task seriously. How is
it you give me no news?"
"I tell you all I hear; what more do you want?"
"A great deal. Look here, Cyprienne, I am not to be put off with
stale, second-hand gossip--the echoes of the Clubs; vague, empty
rumours that are on everybody's tongue long before they come to me. I
must have fresh, brand-new intelligence, straight from the
fountain-head. You must get it for me, or--"
The old frightened look which we have seen on Mrs. Wilders's face
before when brought into antagonism with this man returned to it, and
her voice was less firm, her manner less defiant, as she said--
"Spare me your threats. You know I am most anxious to oblige you--to
help you."
"You have put me off too long with these vague promises. I must have
something more tangible at once."
"It is so difficult to find out anything."
"Not if you go the right way to work. A woman of your attractions,
your cleverness, ought to be able to twist any man round her finger.
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