Audrey leaned back in her chair.
“I have something else to tell you about,” said she in a dull voice, “something which will, I think, make even you change your mind. Mr. Candover presumed last night to—to——”
Mrs. Webster looked at her with apprehension.
“Make love to you?” she suggested with her lips rather than said.
Audrey’s reply was a burst of tears.
“Of course I ought to have been prepared,” she sobbed, “at least I suppose I ought! Men of that type look upon women who have no one to protect them as fair game. But oh, I had thought he was different! For he has been really kind, and I’ve been really grateful!”
“There, there, don’t fret, dear. It’s one of the misfortunes of your good looks to be exposed to that sort of thing. But I didn’t think it of Mr. Candover. The way he speaks of you is always quite charming! You must give him the cold shoulder, for a time at least, and I don’t suppose you will have anything to complain of again.”
Audrey sat up and dried her eyes.
“No, I don’t suppose I shall. He seemed very sorry and ashamed of himself,” admitted she. “But still it breaks one’s heart to have to be always on the defensive with everybody. And he said things—other things, that I can’t forgive. So that, while I mean to let him know that I won’t have anything to say to him for the future, I can’t get over what he did say.”
Mrs. Webster looked curious.