"As lords, yes. Langdon Masters is in no position to emulate his ancestors. And Madeleine! No one ever heard of a lady in the South taking to drink from disappointed love or anything else. When life was too hard for them they went into a beautiful decline and died in the odor of sanctity."
"They get terribly skinny and yellow in the last stages—"
"Sally!"
"Well, I don't care anything about Langdon Masters," announced Mrs. Abbott. "He's left here anyway, and like as not we'll never see him again. This is what I want to know: Can anything be done about Madeleine Talbot? Of course Howard poured whiskey down her throat until it got the best of her. But he should know how to cure her. That is if he knows the worst."
"You may be sure he knows the worst," said Mrs. McLane. "How could he help it?"
"That maid said she bought it on the sly all the time. Don't you suppose he'd put a stop to that if he knew it?"
"Well, he will find it out. And I'll not be the one to tell him. One ordeal of that sort is enough for a lifetime."
"Why not give her a talking to? She has always seemed to defer more to you than to any one else." Mrs. Abbott made the admission grudgingly.
"I am willing to try, if she will see me. But—if she knows what has happened to Masters—and ten to one she does—he may have written to her—I don't believe it will do any good. Alas! Why does youth take life so tragically? When she is as old as I am she will know that no man is worth the loss of a night's sleep."
"Yes, but Madeleine isn't old!" cried Sally. "She's young—young—and she can't live without him. I don't know whether she's weaker or stronger than Sibyl, but at any rate Sibyl is happy—"