"She is old enough, I presume, to know right from wrong."
"She is the youngest creature I know," persists Margaret, in her sweet angelic way, that is all charity, all kindness and all forbearance. "And what a little fairy of a thing! A man should have patience with her. Have patience, Maurice."
"Oh! All you women support each other," says he, frowning. "You wish me to believe that because Nature has built her in a smaller mould than other women, I should therefore condone her faults."
"Such pretty faults," says Margaret. "A little hot temper, a little sauciness, a little petulance—what more?"
Rylton's lip curls.
"If you are such a devotee at her shrine as all that comes to, there is nothing more to be said. Her flirtation with her cousin——"
"Was it a flirtation?"
"There are new names for things every day. Give it the new name and be done with it."
"There can be no new name for a mere imagination. I don't believe she ever had any—any love affair with Mr. Hescott. I don't really, and," boldly, "in your heart I don't think you believe it either. No, don't turn away, don't. It is for your sake I speak, because I have always your interest at heart; Maurice, I entreat you to pause, to think. Is all the fault on Tita's side? Have you loved her as she should be loved?—that little, quick, enthusiastic creature. Where has your heart been since your marriage!"
"You go very far," says Rylton, pale, cold.