Prudence reminded him that he was a county magistrate, and parliamentary candidate for a somewhat difficult borough, where his principal supporters were dissenters of strict principles who took a zealous interest in his moral character. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. A nod was exchanged. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see. But I don’t suppose you can understand. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. We went our ways.
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