Part 14

“That girl!”

“Or Alice Layton?”

“The red-haired Layton?”

“Or Florence Cunliffe?”

“Who was she?”

“Or Millie Trehearne?”

“She squints, Mr. Carter.”

“Or--”

“Stop, stop! What do you mean? What should he tell me?”

“Oh, I see he hasn’t. Nor, I suppose, about Sylvia Fenton, or that little Delancy girl, or handsome Miss--what was her name?”

“Hold your tongue--and tell me what you mean.”

“Lady Mickleham,” said I gravely, “if your husband has not thought fit to mention these ladies--and others whom I could name--to you, how could I presume--?”

“Do you mean to tell me that Archie--?”

“He’d only known you three years, you see.”

“Then it was before--?”

“Some of them were before,” said I.

Lady Mickleham drew a long breath.

“Archie will be in soon,” said she.

I took my hat.

“It seems to me,” I observed, “that what is sauce--that, I should say, husband and wife ought to stand on an equal footing in these matters. Since he has--no doubt for good reasons--not mentioned to you--”

“Alice Layton was a positive fright.”

“She came last,” said I. “Just before you, you know. However, as I was saying--”

“And that horrible Sylvia Fenton--”

“Oh, he couldn’t have known you long then. As I was saying, I should, if I were you, treat him as he has treated you. In my case it seems to be too late.”

“I’m sorry I told him that.”

“Oh, pray don’t mind, it’s of no consequence. As to the others--”

“I should never have thought it of Archie!”

“One never knows,” said I, with an apologetic smile. “I don’t suppose he thinks it of you.”