“You mustn't do that under a misapprehension,” he warned her, when they were alone in the dining-room.
“Do what under a what?” she asked.
“Speak to me. I came into the smoking-room last night 'on purpose,'” he told her, gravely. “I have a prejudice against that young man.”
She laughed. “I guess you think it means a great deal who you have prejudices against!” In mockery she adopted the manner of one who implores. “Bibbs, for pity's sake PROMISE me, DON'T use YOUR influence with papa against him!” And she laughed louder.
“Listen,” he said, with peculiar earnestness. “I'll tell you now, because—because I've decided I'm one of the family.” And then, as if the earnestness were too heavy for him to carry it further, he continued, in his usual tone, “I'm drunk with power, Edith.”
“What do you want to tell me?” she demanded, brusquely.
“Lamhorn made love to Sibyl,” he said.
Edith hooted. “SHE did to HIM! And because you overheard that spat between us the other day when I the same as accused her of it, and said something like that to you afterward—”
“No,” he said, gravely. “I KNOW.”
“How?”