Anita shrugged.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he had every virtue, but it’s idle to pretend that he made any attempt to appreciate Madala Grey.”
“You don’t suggest that the man didn’t love his wife, do you?” said Miss Howe in her downright way.
“I suggest nothing. But the fact remains—I give it for what it is worth—but the fact does remain that John Carey has never read one of her books—not one!”
“What?” The Baxter girl’s mouth opened and stayed so.
“You don’t intend to say——” began Mr. Flood.
“I don’t believe it,” said Miss Howe contemptuously.
“Why not? I’ve known a man jealous of his wife before now. I suppose he knew enough to know that she had the brains.” The blonde lady was smiling.
Anita shook her head reluctantly.
“Jealousy? H’m—it might have been, of course. But I didn’t get that impression. I believe that it was a perfectly genuine lack of interest.”