'But what?' said Dartrey. 'There was no pretence. Her style is not worse than that of some we have seen. There was no effort to deceive. The woman's plain for you and me to read, she has few of the arts; one or two tricks, if you like: and these were not needed for use. There are women who have them, and have not been driven or let slip into the wilderness.'
'Yes; I know!—those ideas of yours!' Nataly had once admired him for his knightliness toward the weakest women and the women underfoot. 'You have spoken to this woman? She boasted of acquaintance with Nesta?'
'She thanked God for having met her.'
'Is it one of the hysterical creatures?'
Mrs. Marsett appeared fronting Dartrey.
He laughed to himself. 'A clever question. There is a leaning to excitement of manner at times. It 's not hysteria. Allow for her position.'
Nataly took the unintended blow, and bowed to it; and still more harshly said: 'What rank of life does the woman come from?'
'The class educated for a skittish career by your popular Stage and your
Book-stalls. I am not precise?'
'Leave Mr. Durance. Is she in any degree commonly well bred? . . . behaviour, talk-her English.'
'I trench on Mr. Durance in replying. Her English is passable. You may hear . . .'