"See here, Pierce," asked Ferry, "do you suppose Mrs. Cram would be so loyal a friend to Waring if she thought there was anything wrong in his attentions to Madame Lascelles? Do you suppose Cram himself wouldn't speak?"
"He has spoken."
"He has? To whom?"
"To me, three days ago; said I had known Waring longest and best, perhaps was his most intimate friend, and he thought I ought to warn him of what people were saying."
"What have you done?"
"Nothing yet: simply because I know Sam Waring so well that I know just what he'd do,—go and pull the nose of the man who gossiped about him and her. Then we'd have a fight on our hands."
"Well, we can fight, I suppose, can't we?"
"Not without involving a woman's name."
"Oh, good Lord, Pierce, was there ever a row without a woman au fond?"
"That's a worm-eaten witticism, Ferry, and you're too decent a fellow, as a rule, to be cynical. I've got to speak to Waring, and I don't know how to do it. I want your advice."