Mrs Trumbler frowned pensively. "I suppose Madame Zabriska has been a widow some time?" she remarked.
"I have never inquired," said Miss S. with an air of expecting applause for a rare discretion.
"I wonder what Mr Harry will do! The Vicar says he must be terribly upset."
"Oh, I never professed to understand that young man. All I know is that he's going abroad."
"Abroad?"
"Yes, my dear. I heard it in the town, and Madame Zabriska said she had no doubt it was correct."
"But surely Madame Zabriska doesn't correspond——?"
"I don't know, my dear. I know what she said." She looked at Mrs Trumbler and went on with emphasis: "It doesn't do to judge foreigners as we should judge ourselves. If I corresponded with Mr Tristram it would be one thing; if Madame Zabriska—and to be sure she has nobody to look after her; that Major is no better than any silly young man—chooses to do so, it's quite another. All I say is that, so far as Blent is concerned, there's an end of Mr Tristram. Why, he hasn't got a penny piece, my dear."
"So I heard," agreed Mrs Trumbler. "I suppose they won't let him starve."