“What is that?” And there was a certain eagerness in his gray eyes.
“I would scorn to trouble the peace of a happy ménage for the sake of gratifying my poor vanity.”
“And who does this thing?”
“You have a very poor memory, Colonel Dacre. Don’t you remember how well poor foolish Percy Gray got on with his wife, until——”
“Go on,” he urged.
“Well, until Mrs. O’Hara paid them a long visit in town, and then Percy began gradually to discover that Lady Maria was unsympathetic and dull, and could not satisfy a man of intellectual tastes. Perhaps Mrs. O’Hara meant no worse than to make herself agreeable to a convenient acquaintance; but the result was to separate the two.”
“I don’t think you are just, Lady Gwendolyn. What reason have you for laying their domestic differences at Mrs. O’Hara’s door?”
“Lady Maria made no mystery of it.”
“She was jealous of Mrs. O’Hara.”
“Possibly. I fancy I should have been in her place,” and Lady Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed fire. “If I had a husband, I should not exactly care for him to be always dancing attendance on a handsome widow, and making her presents of valuable jewels, especially when he bought these last with my money.”