“I say, is he going to die, do you think?” she asked suddenly.
“No—what made you ask that?” Ruth felt her eyes shifting in spite of her efforts to meet Gloria’s clear gaze.
“I don’t know—something in the look of him when we left him there in his wheel chair—you know everything is finished for us, but still it would be terrible! I should hate to have Percy die, though God knows I have enough ex-husbands to be able to spare just one.”
Her shrill, mirthless laughter rose above the chatter of the children’s voices.
“Don’t, Gloria—please don’t—I can’t bear it!”
“Look here, child—are you—do you love Percy?” Her voice had changed now, all the hardness gone from it—it was almost the mother tone. Her words startled Ruth more than anything that had gone before.
“Love Professor Pendragon? Of course not. I like him awfully well—I’m afraid I think you’ve treated him very badly and perhaps I’m sorry for him, but I never thought of him in any other way. What made you ask that?”
Gloria listened, at first with a little puzzled line between her perfect brows, and then, convinced of Ruth’s sincerity, her face cleared.
“I don’t know—something Terry said first gave me the idea. I think he got the impression from something you said. And it wouldn’t be so strange, would it? Percy is attractive.”
“Much more attractive than that horrible creature,” said Ruth, glancing in Prince Aglipogue’s direction.