' Mrs. Lecount
politely declined giving me the trouble--I politely insisted on taking
it. We fell into conversation. There is no need to trouble you with
our talk. The result of it on my mind is--that Mrs. Lecount's one weak
point, if she has such a thing at all, is a taste for science, implanted
by her deceased husband, the professor. I think I see a chance here of
working my way into her good graces, and casting a little needful dust
into those handsome black eyes of hers. Acting on this idea when I
purchased the lady's tea at Ipswich, I also bought on my own account
that far-famed pocket-manual of knowledge, 'Joyce's Scientific
Dialogues.' Possessing, as I do, a quick memory and boundless confidence
in myself, I propose privately inflating my new skin with as much
ready-made science as it will hold, and presenting Mr. Bygrave to Mrs.
Lecount's notice in the character of the most highly informed man she
has met with since the professor's death. The necessity of blindfolding
that woman (to use your own admirable expression) is as clear to me
as to you. If it is to be done in the way I propose, make your mind
easy--Wragge, inflated by Joyce, is the man to do it.
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