"Well, do women do that sort of thing?"
"Why, of course they do, my dear."
Alice's smile expressed a very clear opinion of such conduct, supposing it to exist. Irene grew red for an instant and pushed her chair back from the table. Anger makes delicate methods of remarking on important facts seem unnecessary.
"You know Ora Pinsent's off to America?" she asked.
"No, I know nothing of Miss Pinsent's movements," said Alice haughtily. "I don't read theatrical gossip."
Irene looked at her, rose, and came near. She stood looking down at Alice. Alice looked up with a smile; the irritation in both seemed to vanish.
"Oh, my dear girl, why must you be so proud?" asked Irene, with a nervous little laugh. "You cared for him, Alice."
"Yes; all the world knew that. I didn't realise, though, quite how well they knew it."
"And now you don't?"
Alice's eyes did not leave her friend's face as she paused in consideration.