"The world constitutes itself judge in such cases," retorted her mother-in-law. "Now pray try to take my words as I mean them. I haven't the least desire to pry or meddle. I am merely calling your attention to what others might think if they chanced to come here twice within a week, as I've done, and each time found that young Italian with you. There would be comment—and not kindly comment either, you may be sure of that."
"Oh," exclaimed Sophy, exasperated, "what a low way of thinking most people have!"
"Yes—the average mind is not exalted in its views," assented the other calmly. "That is what I wanted to remind you of."
Sophy stood still and looked into her eyes with a proud look.
"No breath of scandal has ever touched my name," she said.
"I'm quite aware of that, my dear Sophy," replied Lady Wychcote. "My only object was to help you to prevent such a thing from ever happening."
"It's very kind of you, I'm sure," said Sophy, speaking with difficulty.
The older woman answered with considerable amiability:
"No. You don't think it kind of me. And I quite understand that you resent what you think only tiresome meddling on my part. But I meant it well. Believe me or not, as you choose. Of course, as you said, you must be the judge of your own conduct. Only"—she gave her a very shrewd look indeed—"don't forget, pray, in case a ... some ... unpleasantness should occur, that I tried to forewarn you."
Whiter than ever, Sophy said in a low voice: