| Book II
26. Chapter XXVI.
 (continued)"I don't know, of course, how far your wife's family
are aware of what people say about--well, about Madame
Olenska's refusal to accept her husband's latest
offer." Archer was silent, and Mr. Jackson obliquely continued:
"It's a pity--it's certainly a pity--that she refused
it." "A pity?  In God's name, why?" Mr. Jackson looked down his leg to the unwrinkled
sock that joined it to a glossy pump. "Well--to put it on the lowest ground--what's she
going to live on now?" "Now--?" "If Beaufort--" Archer sprang up, his fist banging down on the black
walnut-edge of the writing-table.  The wells of the brass
double-inkstand danced in their sockets. "What the devil do you mean, sir?" Mr. Jackson, shifting himself slightly in his chair,
turned a tranquil gaze on the young man's burning
face. "Well--I have it on pretty good authority--in fact,
on old Catherine's herself--that the family reduced
Countess Olenska's allowance considerably when she
definitely refused to go back to her husband; and as, by
this refusal, she also forfeits the money settled on her
when she married--which Olenski was ready to make
over to her if she returned--why, what the devil do YOU
mean, my dear boy, by asking me what I mean?" Mr.
Jackson good-humouredly retorted. Archer moved toward the mantelpiece and bent over
to knock his ashes into the grate. "I don't know anything of Madame Olenska's private
affairs; but I don't need to, to be certain that what
you insinuate--" "Oh, I don't: it's Lefferts, for one," Mr. Jackson
interposed. |