Somebody gasped. It turned out to be Maud. Amanthus, sweet and unruffled and definite, was going on.
"Mamma says, however, he's to go away. Quite away. And let her have the summer to take me about. We're going to Mamma's two cousins who married East, one at Narragansett, and one at Bar Harbor, and think it over. But I know now. Mamma needn't bother."
Juliette more than ever these days was Spartan and accusing. She spared not herself nor anyone. Her aquiline little face blazed and her dark eyes flashed. "How do you reconcile it with yourself about Bliss?"
Amanthus colored. "I don't have to. I told him it was a boy and girl affair all the time. It never would have been Bliss anyhow. There have been several this winter I haven't talked about."
That night Culpepper and Mr. Welling and Mr. Cannon came around again to Selina's. As if drawn back by a common need of fellowship, Maud and Juliette and Adele were there.
"Wonderful old Tate!" said Mr. Welling. "He's just broken it to us."
The four were silent. Maud was by Selina on the sofa, and Juliette who was sitting by Adele, had her hand. They avoided Mr. Welling's eyes, and the eyes of each other. As Amanthus herself had said, they took things hard. Probe beneath this affair of hers with anybody, they could not. Nor could they bring themselves to mention Mr. Tate. It was as if silently and desperately they sought support in each other only, and clung together.
Perhaps the others understood. "Fool Bliss," said Culpepper, "but then he always has been."
They could not discuss that either.
"How's the cause?" from Mr. Cannon suddenly.