"I want to talk to you about Ian."
"You had better talk to him. He is requiring some one to do so. He is spelling life now with a woman's name."
"Marion's?"
"No."
"The lovely widow Grant's?"
"No. You must look higher up."
"You don't—you can't mean Lady Cramer?"
"Just Lady Cramer."
"The mischief! Is it true?"
"True? I should say so. I am living at his side, and love and a cold can't be hid. Forbye, he is reading books he has no business to read, and writing letters he ought not to write—love letters."