"What should you do, if you were me?"
"Make love to her myself," smiled Mrs. Cormack. She was having her revenge on Tom for many a scornful speech.
"If you'd held your tongue, it would all have blown over!" he exclaimed in exasperation.
"It will blow over still; but it will blow first," she said. "If that contents you, hold your tongue."
Then she turned to Tom, and laid a small fore-finger on his arm.
"Mark this," said she, "he does not care for her. He cares for himself; she is—what would you say? an incident—an accident—I do not know how to say it—to him."
"Well, if you're right there——" began Tom in some relief.
"If I'm right there, it will make no difference—at first. But, as you say, it will blow over—and sooner."
Tom looked at her, and thought, and looked again.
"By Jove, you're not a fool, Mrs. Cormack," said he, almost under his breath.