“Ah, I thought that would startle you!” Jane remarked, with much gratification. “I was at the Lexingtons’ yesterday. She is queer.”
I saw that Jane wanted me to ask questions, but I always prefer having gossip volunteered to me; it seems more dignified, and one very seldom loses anything in the end. So I just nodded, and relighted my pipe. Jane smiled scornfully.
“You’ll go there yourself to-day,” she said. “I know you.”
“I was going, anyhow—to pay my dinner call.”
“Of course!” She was satisfied with the effect of her sarcasm—I think I had betrayed signs of confusion—and went on gravely: “You can imagine how upset they all are.”
“But she only proposes to consider.”
“Well, it’s not very flattering to be considered, is it? ‘I’ll consider’—that’s what one says to get out of the shop when a thing costs too much.”
I had to ask one question. I did it as carelessly as possible. “Did you happen to see Miss Constantine herself?”
“Oh yes; I saw Katharine. I saw her, because she was in the room part of the time, and I’m not blind,” said Jane crossly.
“I gather that she hardly took you into her full—her inner—confidence?”