Susan's Amazonian ire had died down to a village beauty's pout.
"I can never forgive him, Miss," she said. "I wouldn't have believed it of Gibson. Not to mention the disrespect to you, Miss Gertrude."
"Never mind the disrespect to me," I answered, "I can look after that myself. No doubt it's very silly and weak of him; but the point is, that Gibson is so badly in love that he's madly jealous."
"Please, Miss, you didn't tell him about ... Lord Ruddington?" asked Mees Breegs in a fright.
"Susan," I said, "I'm surprised. What are you thinking of? Unless you've told him yourself, he can't have the faintest notion that there's a Lord Ruddington in the case. But I can see he suspects there is somebody. That's why he couldn't sit quiet in England while his rival cuts him out in France."
"I shall never forgive him, Miss," snapped Susan more conclusively than ever.
"Don't say that, Susan," I said; "or, if you say it, take care you don't mean it."
"But I do, Miss."
"Then it's nothing to be proud of. Don't hate a man for merely loving you."
"He ought to have stopped at home, Miss."