“Why, what happened?”
Nobody knew exactly.
“But, afterward, you should have seen her face!”
“Oh, just queer—dreadful!”
“But she was that at the start!”
“Then, of all things, her riding after them!”
“Them!”
“Why, Mrs. Essington came for him.”
“Mrs. Essington! Well!”
So much was out, and so flat, one didn’t know what might jump out next. Julia’s indifference—a stunned quiescence under her mother’s reproaches and the curious glances of the guests—her white face, her blank eyes, added the last touch. “Queer” was the word for it, and this “queerness” clung to them, held them irresolute, was almost too much for their sense of decency. It needed just a turn to start them off, and this Thair gave, cornering Cissy Fitz Hugh, who, in the midst of the indecision, preserved a settled air.