"My dear Mrs. Willoughby," said Dolly. "Marion is a very sensible woman and manages her existence on scientific principles. She really gets much more rest than you or I, not to mention the fact—well, I suppose I ought not to say it."
"What? Why not?"
"Well, I was thinking that since poor Mr. Darche was drowned, life must have seemed like one long rest to Marion."
"Oh Dolly, how unkind!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, and then paused a moment before she continued. "But I suppose there is some truth in it. What is that proverb? 'De—de—mort—'"
"'De mortuis nil nisi—something like bones,'" answered Dolly with a laugh.
"What? What is that?"
"Oh nothing. It only means that everybody should say the nicest possible things when people are dead. That was what you meant. But I should think the living would appreciate them more."
"Yes, yes," assented Mrs. Willoughby vaguely. "I daresay he would."
"He? Who is he?" asked Dolly with affected surprise.
"Oh I do not mean anything, my dear. I hardly think that Marion will marry again."