"But suppose," suggested May, with some uneasiness, "that he knew about that French book?"
"Oh, my dear, we can't suppose that! Besides, we haven't read the book. It may really be quite different in its tendency from Mr. Lashmar's view."
"I don't see how it can be, Mrs. Toplady. Judging from those quotations, and the article, it's Mr. Lashmar from beginning to end."
"Then it's a most curious case of coincidence. Poor Mr. Lashmar will naturally be vexed. It's hard upon him, isn't it?"
May did not at once respond. The friend, watching her with the roguish smile, let fall another piece of intelligence.
"I hear that his marriage is to be in the autumn."
"Indeed?" said May, indifferently.
"Between ourselves," pursued the other, "didn't you feel just a little surprised?"
"Surprised?"
"At his choice. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I quite appreciate Miss Bride's cleverness and seriousness. But one couldn't help thinking that a man of Mr. Lashmar's promise—. Perhaps you don't see it in that way?"