It Happened in Japan

by Baroness Albert d' Anethan

But Amy would not have been a woman, and certainly not Amy Mendovy, if before her lover left her that day, she had not satisfied herself as to the future disposal of the lady whom she chose to consider as her rival.

"And Lady Martinworth?" she inquired, "what are you going to do about her? You will, I suppose, be kind enough to stop going about with her and flirting, now that you have at last made up your mind to be engaged to me. Oh! Ralph, you don't care for her really, do you?"

Ralph laughed and twirled his black moustache, as he looked down into the flushed face.

"Nobody," he replied, "has ever yet accused me of ingratitude. I certainly have no intention of casting off Lady Martinworth, for she has done me an uncommonly good turn."

"What do you mean?" inquired Amy, on the defensive at once.

"Simply that my flirtation, not that it deserves such a name--for Lady Martinworth, let me tell you, darling, hasn't got the remotest notion as to what flirting means--our--late--intercourse, was nothing more nor less than a pre-arranged plan formed with Mrs. Nugent to produce the desired result of bringing you, Miss Mendovy, to your senses. I couldn't have got on much longer without you, you know. So we had to contrive some means by which you should learn to know your own mind. It was Mrs. Nugent's happy notion that I should try to make you jealous, Amy. She is ill now, so you must forgive her, you know. And as for me, I don't care if you forgive me or not, for now that you have once said 'yes,' you won't find it very easy to get rid of me again. I can tell you that."

Of course, Amy wasted a good deal of breath in pointing out that she had never for a single instant experienced the sentiment of jealousy, a sentiment for which, she assured him, she had indeed the very greatest contempt. She took some little trouble to explain that she had merely felt considerable regret that Ralph should have--well--caused gossip, by allowing his name to be coupled with that of a married woman. In fact, she begged he would understand that her anxiety from the first had been solely for the condition of his morals, and she seized this opportunity to deliver quite an eloquent little homily on the iniquity of flirtations in general, and with married women in particular. To all of which words of wisdom Ralph listened attentively, the effect, however, being somewhat marred, in Amy's opinion, by a persistent and most apparent twinkle in the dark eyes. She inwardly wondered if he could by any possibility be laughing at her, and she felt that she really had some right to be aggrieved, when, after her lecture, which had lasted fully five minutes, he merely said in reply that Lady Martinworth was a real good soul, and though he perfectly understood Amy being somewhat prejudiced against her for the moment, he had not the slightest doubt that eventually the two would become the closest of friends.

"She is the kindest-hearted, straightest woman I know," he added, "and she really has an awfully sad life. Martinworth doesn't care two straws for her. He is away now--went off weeks ago, and never offered to take her with him. She is terribly lonely, for she knows very few people here. I think you might take pity on her, darling, and chum up a bit with her."

Which tactless and unfortunate suggestion was met with the severity it deserved.

Miss Mendovy regretted, but she really did not think that she and Lady Martinworth were likely to prove congenial. From her childhood she had possessed a strong dislike for mannish women. And though, of course, she could not but feel sorry for the poor thing's solitude, she really feared that just at present, with her mind and hands so full of dear Pearl, she would have but little spare time to devote to outsiders. This fact reminded Amy that it was impossible to waste further precious moments in talking about a person who really interested her so very slightly, so that if Ralph would excuse her, she would go and relieve her aunt in the sick room.