A plain statement was manna to Mrs. Sandworth. She had finished her soup, and was beginning on her hamburg steak when the doctor came soberly in, took his place, and began to eat in silence. She took up the conversation where they had left it.
“So it’s all over,” she commented, watching his plate to see that he did not forget to salt his meat and help himself to gravy.
“Nothing’s ever over in a human life,” he contradicted her. “Why do you suppose she doesn’t want it announced?”
“You don’t suppose she means to break it off later?”
“I haven’t any idea what she means, any more than she has, poor child! But it’s plain that this is only to gain time—a sop to the wolves.”
“Wolves!” cried poor Mrs. Sandworth.
“Well, tigers and hyenas, perhaps,” he added moderately.
“They’re crazy about Lydia, that whole Emery family,” she protested.
“They are that,” he agreed sardonically. “But I don’t mean only her family. I mean unclean prowling standards of what’s what, as well as—”
“They’d lie down and let her walk over them! You know they would—”