“My mind is not perverted,” I said, “because I see life as it is. I have lived in the world now for eight years, and all my friends happen to have married long since. I should have been a fool had I not seen and heard what life meant to many people, even if I never had had any confidences made me. But it has not stained my mind in the least, because it is something I never think of when by myself—which is the result of accepting life and human nature as they are not as they ought to be. I will not pretend to say, however, that I do not sympathize with women who are carried away by passion. I do not see how a woman who has any passion——”
“Lady Helen! I cannot let you go any further. I am willing to admit that there is sin in the world, but there are certain standards of refinement in this country that I will not hear violated.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I mean that—well—that I cannot listen to a woman admit that she has passions exactly like a man.”
“Do you mean that you never heard that before?” I asked curiously.
“Never! There are certain obligations—but—Oh, don’t let us talk of it. There is one thing further I feel I must say—and I am hoping you will pardon me, for we are all hoping and longing to keep you among us—you and dear Lady Agatha, although of course we know that we must lose the clever Duke when he is well enough to go home——”
She paused, and I gave her my most encouraging smile. We were on the veranda now and she sat opposite me, leaning forward alertly.
“It is this,” she said with her anxious smile. “We all do so want you to marry our dear brilliant accomplished Mr. Rogers, and not Mr. Nugent. He is not really one of us, and, I am afraid he is not too high-principled and has not led an immaculate life—like Mr. Rogers.”
“How can you tell?”
“By their faces. Look at Mr. Rogers’. It is refinement itself, almost ascetic. Mr. Nugent looks—well—of course he is a gentleman and irreproachable in society, but I know he has not led a regular life.”