"Yes; is it so utterly impossible? Come, my dear, I don't deny he's good looking, but there are other men in the world you know. They've been going it properly, I can tell you. The Manor House is mortgaged—that I could have told you three months ago; in fact, now she's spent his money for him, he has ceased to be so far as she is concerned, and she hasn't lost much time in nominating his successor either—she's gone off with an American millionaire. What d'you think of that? They're in Florence, I believe."
"Poor Gerald," she said slowly. "He has reaped his whirlwind."
"And why not; he sowed it, goodness knows. You don't mean to tell me you pity him? There!—I do believe I'm right, you—no!—you wouldn't go to the fellow now?"
"Only if he were ill—if he were dying would I go to him. When he left me that night in this very room, I told him when I saw him again it would be on his death-bed. When the end comes I shall be there."
Mrs. Parsley rose and kissed her. She could not but admire deep down in her soul the unswerving steadfastness of this woman. It touched her more than anything in life had touched her for years past; for she had a very tender heart had Mrs. Parsley.
"You are a silly fool, my dear," she said, "a great big silly donkey. We are both silly donkeys, I believe, when it comes to the point. But after the way that man's insulted you—well, most women would have liked to dance a polka on his grave."
"You wouldn't—if he had been your husband."
"P'r'aps not—but although I said I was a donkey, not in my most asinine moments would I have gone as far as that. Gerald Arkel should never have been my husband. And if he had, that hussy would never have got him—that I swear! But you, dear, you've just been soft soap in their hands; you're so good-natured and gentle and sweet, that I could—but there, I love you for it all the more."
So saying, Mrs. Parsley expressed her affection in a warm embrace, and seeing it was hurtful to her friend, changed the subject.
She was never at a loss for a topic. There were all sorts of parochial and urban schemes to be discussed, among the latter a new home for strayed street boys, which the good lady had established in one of the Lambeth lanes. She was now well known in that neighbourhood, and though she had her people under well nigh despotic rule, was none the less beloved on that account. Even the recalcitrant Mother Mandarin yielded to her. As for the street boys, who were her especial care, she had banged so many of their heads together, that they now no longer swore at her so much as they swore by her. By sheer persistence and strength to enforce her commands, she had brought about a cleansing nothing short of Augean. Her sway was absolute as that of any Cæsar—her methods every whit as drastic and vastly more beneficial.