"I like him very much."
"Yes?" She was just as non-committal as Winnie had been with her 'Perhaps!'
"Of course, you've heard her side of the story."
"I have," said Mrs. Lenoir. "Or as much of it as she'd tell me."
Lady Rosaline determined to try what a little provocation would do.
"Of course, we who are his friends think that all might have gone well with a little more wisdom on her part."
Mrs. Lenoir raised her brows ever so slightly. "Oh, perhaps!" she murmured gently.
It was really exasperating! To be baffled at every turn by that wretched word, with its pretence of conceding that was no real concession, with its feigned assent which might so likely cloak an obstinate dissent! It was like listening for an expected sound from another room—the noise of voices or of movements—and finding, instead, absolute silence and stillness; there was something of the same uncanny effect. Lady Rosaline passed from mere perplexity into a vague discomfort—an apprehension of possibilities which she was refused the means of gauging, however vitally they might affect her. Dare she walk into that strangely silent room—and let them bolt and bar the door on her?
"After all, it's not our business," Mrs. Lenoir remarked, with a smile. "Winnie couldn't stand it, but, as you say, perhaps a wiser woman——"
"Couldn't stand what?" Lady Rosaline broke in impatiently.