Mrs. Emsworth laughed; Amelie really was too stately for words.
'My dear, you are new to London, of course, but I wonder that no candid friend has ever told you. Bertie was once just madly in love with me. It was a great bore though I liked him well enough. But such classical ardour was beyond me. His letter—has he never confessed to you about the letter he wrote me? It was quite a lyrical letter, and it made me scream. I was just the only thing on God's earth.'
'Can you show it me?' asked Amelie very quietly. 'I should think it must be amusing.'
She made a rather pitiful attempt to laugh.
'I wish I could,' said the other, still maliciously; 'I am sure you would shriek over it. But I tore it up ages ago—last autumn, to be accurate, the first time I saw Bertie in America. It was rather kind of me—rather excessively kind, I have sometimes thought; I might have had some fun over it.'
She glanced carelessly across to Amelie. The girl had grown quite pale, even to the lips, and her hands were trembling. Instantly a compunction as quick as all her emotions seized the other.
'Ah! you mustn't mind my nonsense, dear Amelie,' she cried, jumping up. 'I have been talking very foolishly; I did not think it would make you mind like that.'
She took the girl's hand, but Amelie withdrew it.
'But there was this letter,' she said. 'And Bertie did make love to you?'
'Yes; why not? Show me the man, the most respectable married man, who says he has never kissed another girl in his life, and I will show you a liar. What does it matter?'