CHAPTER XIX.
“You are very thoughtful, Mr. Stoughton,” remarked Mrs. Percy-Bartlett gently, as she wheeled around on the piano-stool and looked Richard squarely in the face.
“I was weighing a sentence just uttered by John Fenton—one of those haunting phrases of his that will not take a back seat when they have once entered the mind.”
“He must be a man of peculiar power, this John Fenton,” commented Mrs. Percy-Bartlett musingly. “I have heard him quoted a good deal of late.”
“By Gertrude Van Vleck?” asked Richard, with an impulsive exhibition of bad taste.
Mrs. Percy-Bartlett frowned.
“I am astonished, Mr. Stoughton! Your question is simply shocking. But tell me,” she continued, leaning forward, and looking at him inquisitively, “do you really think that Mr. Fenton is interested in Gertrude?”
“I am astonished!” cried Richard. “Your question is simply shocking, Mrs. Percy-Bartlett.”
Their eyes met, and they laughed merrily. They were both very happy for the moment. The love-affairs of other people may form at times a very effective counter-irritant and delay a crisis that Platonic friendship is apt to carry with it when a young married woman and an ardent youth use it as a cloak to conceal their feelings.