“And what does her husband think?”
“Her husband? What husband?”
“Hasn’t she then married Lord Iffield?”
“Vous-en-êtes là?” cried my hostess. “He behaved like a regular beast.”
“How should I know? You never wrote to me.”
Mrs. Meldrum hesitated, covering me with what poor Flora called the particular organ. “No, I didn’t write to you; and I abstained on purpose. If I didn’t I thought you mightn’t, over there, hear what had happened. If you should hear I was afraid you would stir up Mr. Dawling.”
“Stir him up?”
“Urge him to fly to the rescue; write out to him that there was another chance for him.”
“I wouldn’t have done it,” I said.
“Well,” Mrs. Meldrum replied, “it was not my business to give you an opportunity.”