Just before ten o’clock, when Barfoot was talking of some acquaintances he had left in Japan, Rhoda entered the room. She seemed little disposed for conversation, and Everard did not care to assail her taciturnity this evening. He talked on a little longer, observing her as she listened, and presently took an opportunity to rise for departure.
“Wednesday is the forbidden evening, is it not?” he said to his cousin.
“Yes, that is devoted to business.”
As soon as he had gone, the friends exchanged a look. Each understood the other as referring to this point of Wednesday evening, but neither made a remark. They were silent for some time. When Rhoda at length spoke it was in a tone of half-indifferent curiosity.
“You are sure you haven’t exaggerated Mr. Barfoot’s failings?”
The reply was delayed for a moment.
“I was a little indiscreet to speak of him at all. But no, I didn’t exaggerate.”
“Curious,” mused the other dispassionately, as she stood with one foot on the fender. “He hardly strikes one as that kind of man.”
“Oh, he has certainly changed a great deal.”
Miss Barfoot went on to speak of her cousin’s resolve to pursue no calling.