"About Marion and Mr. Brett?"
"Why?" Dolly asked, looking up quickly, and then hesitating. "Is there anything? I mean—yes, that is what I meant to ask."
"Well, my dear," answered Mrs. Willoughby in a confidential tone, "to tell the truth I am glad to talk to somebody about it, for it is on my mind, and you know that Marion does not like to answer questions."
"Yes, I know. Well, so you think there is something between them?"
"My dear, of course there is," said Mrs. Willoughby without hesitation. "And I am quite sure that something has happened lately. In fact, I believe they are engaged to be married."
"Do you really? And—and—where does Mr. Vanbrugh come in?"
"Mr. Vanbrugh? I am sure I do not know. Perhaps he will be Harry Brett's best man."
"If they could see themselves as others see them," reflected Dolly under her breath, before she answered the remark. "They would make a handsome couple, would they not? But you are quite mistaken, dear Mrs. Willoughby—oh, you are quite—quite mistaken." She looked down and sipped her tea.
"How do you know that?" asked Mrs. Willoughby. "How can you be so sure? Do you not see how they go on together, always sitting in corners and talking in undertones?"
"Do you not see how Marion spoils Mr. Vanbrugh, and gets his special brand of cigarettes for him, and always asks him to dinner to fill up a place, and altogether behaves like an idiot about him? You must be blind if you do not see that. Let me give you another cup of tea?"