"It would never do to have talk of that kind going about, Lady Rossiter. Demoralise the staff in a moment, you know. I remember rather a similar case, years ago, in the big insurance office where I started life. One of the partners played the fool—nothing wrong, you know, but there was a pretty typist, and he was for ever sending for her to take down letters, and the others got talking—you can guess the sort of thing. The girl had to get the sack, of course."
The matter-of-factness of this conclusion was against all Lady Rossiter's avowed principles of championship of her sex, and consistency would not allow her to assent. But she gave a heavy sigh, and said:
"I know the sort of thing you mean, and gossip spreads so easily in a little community like ours. I can't help knowing, either, that one or two people have already noticed the way in which Miss Marchrose behaves."
"Oh, well, you know," leniently remarked the old man, "it may not be altogether her doing. Easter has no business to forget he's a married man."
"I am afraid," Edna answered with reserve, "that I know one or two things about Miss Marchrose which go to show that she is not exactly an inexperienced person. Besides, women have very strong instincts sometimes, and get to know a good deal by intuition. I will tell you perfectly honestly, Mr. Bellew, that I've never altogether trusted her, although it seems a hard thing to say."
Perhaps the Alderman was somewhat of the same opinion.
"What does Sir Julian think?"
"He has comparatively few opportunities of judging; and besides, I haven't really discussed the matter with him. One does dislike anything of that sort so intensely, it's very difficult sometimes to speak of it."
"Yes, yes, Lady Rossiter—of course. But you mustn't distress yourself, on any account. That would never do. You know, the girl can go."
Edna was sincerely horrified at this ruthless cutting of the Gordian knot.