"Right!" Mary said.
"But what did he mean?"
"He meant—that he has treated you as he has treated a good many girls," she said. "He is married."
"Married!"
I didn't feel as if it was a blow, or hard to bear. I almost felt like laughing, when I remembered the things I had said, and how he had looked.
"Yes. Are you sorry for your own sake, Kitty?" asked she. "I think you have had an escape to be thankful for."
"I do think so too," I answered; and I spoke from my heart.
"Ah, that is right, that is right," said she. "Then you understand now. But I have not told you all. Walter married three weeks after I left him, to take care of you and your mother. My dear, it would have been just the same if I had stayed there," says she. "He was bent on having the girl, and I knew it. He married her, saying nothing to me. And a week later—"
"Is she a nice girl?" I asked.
"No; not a nice girl at all," Mary said; and her face took its stern look for just a moment. "Not a girl I could wish to live with, even if she wished to have me; which she does not."