“Now what old woman could help having her head turned by that?” she exclaimed, with a smile.
He scrutinized her face. Yes, she had grown older, he thought, but not ignominiously; in some way that made age seem of value. Even in regard to her Stacey was not curious as to what experiences of body or soul lay beneath the changes her face showed; but he accepted what she was, as a gracious fact.
“Where have you come from, Stacey?” she asked.
“From your house,” he replied, with an acid smile.
“Oh,” she observed, “so that’s why you were marching along with the air of being so glad to be alone! Have you broken—I mean, have you and Marian broken off your engagement?”
“Yes,” said Stacey coolly, “I believe so.”
After this they were silent for a while.
“Oh,” he observed suddenly, as an afterthought, but really with some little touch of human sentiment, “I hope you won’t feel hurt! I should be sorry to hurt you.”
“I?” Mrs. Latimer exclaimed. “Gracious, no! I’m immensely relieved. I wouldn’t have had you and Marian marry for anything in the world.”
Stacey did not know whether she was being a vixenish mother-in-law or an unnatural mother, but he found her remark amusing taken either way, and laughed. She laughed with him, but more gaily.