She looked up into my face and stopped short. There was a little pause.
“Won’t you tell me about it?” she said, wistfully. “Not unless you like, of course.”
“There is nothing much to tell,” I answered, controlling my voice with a desperate effort. “Mr. Deville asked me something. I was obliged to say no. He is consoling himself admirably.”
She sighed, and looked at me thoughtfully. That note of bitterness in my tone had betrayed me.
“I am sorry,” she said. “Bruce Deville is not exactly a woman’s man, and he has many faults, but he is a fine fellow. He is a world too good anyhow to throw himself away upon that miserable chit of a girl.”
That was exactly my own idea. I did not tell her so, however.
“She is very rich,” I remarked. “She can free his estates and put him in his right position again.”
“That is only a trifle,” she declared. “Besides, he is not so poor as some people think. He could live differently now, only he is afraid that he would have to entertain and be entertained. He makes his poverty an excuse for a great many things, but as a matter of fact he is not nearly so embarrassed as people believe. The truth is he detests society.”
“I do not blame him,” I answered. “Society is detestable.”
“At any rate, I cannot bring myself to believe that he is thinking seriously about that girl,” she continued, anxiously. “I should hate to think so!”