"How she must love him!" she thought. "How we both love him!" and she ground her teeth.
Lady Eleanor, with her eyes downcast, asked after a pause:
"What is her name?"
"Leslie Lisle," replied Finetta. "She's as pretty and—and fresh as—as a flower; and when I told her that—that—"
Lady Eleanor looked up.
"What did you tell her?" she asked, in a low, husky voice.
Finetta flushed sullenly.
"Well, it doesn't matter. I thought that what I'd told her would break it off between him and her; but it hasn't, or he wouldn't be buying the wedding ring. They are going to be married secretly, and at once; and now what are you going to do, my lady?"
Lady Eleanor looked before her vacantly. Her heart was aching, burning with jealousy and the terror of despair. She shook her head.
"I daresay you wonder why I spoke to you, why I tell you this, seeing—that it can't matter to me who he marries?" said Finetta, with a flush.