"Is he in the habit of associating with pugilists?"
Pete sighed and hesitated.
"If it's just between us, miss, why I'll say that he has his friends among such people. It's a very shocking thing; I've done my best to keep it away from his aunt. So far I think I've succeeded. I've tried very hard to persuade him to change his ways. I've labored with him; I've tried to get his mind turned to different things."
"Theology?" suggested Mary.
"Exactly," answered the valet. "But it's not an easy matter, miss. Mr. William is very set in his ways."
"But I thought you had told his aunt that he was interested in higher things."
"To encourage her," said Pete, glibly. "It was not what you'd call a falsehood. There had been times when he seemed interested, but never for very long. Still, I've always had hopes. His aunt is good enough to believe that I have a desirable influence over him. I hope it's true; I hope so."
It always puzzled Mary when the valet pursued this strain, and it puzzled her now. Ninety-nine out of a hundred men who talked thus she would have classed as hypocrites, but Pete did not seem to her to be exactly that. She viewed all his excellent protestations askance, yet she was not satisfied that hypocrisy was the true explanation.
"It seems a shame," he continued, "that it was necessary to bring you into touch with such an affair as to-night's. I wouldn't have thought of it if there had been any other way. I knew that you would be very much shocked, miss; very much surprised, too."
He watched her so closely that Mary wondered if he really suspected the truth—that she was neither quite so much shocked nor surprised as both he and Bill seemed to believe. That was her own secret and she intended to guard it at all costs.