“Yes—it does sound so,” conceded she. “But it’s the truth. I had a queer attack—an attack of jealousy. I’d often heard of that sort of thing. I fancied myself above it. Perhaps that was why I fell such a foolish victim. But I’ve recovered completely.” And her eyes were mocking me as if she had a secret joke on me.
“It couldn’t last long,” said I, to be saying something.
“No, perhaps not,” replied she. “At any rate, as soon as I heard of Mary Kirkwood’s engagement I was cured—instantly cured.”
“I told you she was engaged,” said I.
“Oh, I don’t mean that Beechman person,” scoffed Edna. “She was simply amusing herself with him. A woman—a woman of our world—might have an affair with a man of that sort—as you men sometimes do with queer women. But she wouldn’t think of marrying him. Marriage is a serious matter.”
“Yes, indeed,” said I.
“It’s a woman’s whole career,” pursued she. “It means not only her position, but the position of her children, too.”
“Very serious,” said I.
“No—I mean Mary’s engagement to Count von Tilzer-Borgfeldt.”
“I hadn’t heard of it,” said I indifferently. There could be nothing in such a silly story.