Mary appeared not to be aware that this topic had a personal interest for Maisie Jones. Also she had swiftly calculated how she must handle this particular business. If she told Maisie outright some scandal concerning Jack, Maisie in her pride might refuse to believe her, and the matter would end right there. Maisie had to be so led that she believed herself to be leading, and whatever she learned she must apparently find out for herself.
“Miss Jones, these men are all alike,” Mary answered lightly, “and they say Jack Morton is the most alike of them all.”
“But—but I’d heard that Jack Morton was very steady just now.”
“That’s the little way men have.” Mary gave the soft, cynical laugh of the wise young woman of fashion. “The more that men have to hide, the more steady and proper do they try to appear.”
“You mean that he is—that there is a woman—” Maisie Jones could get no further.
“So they say. And I’m told he’s the same as engaged to a nice girl in Chicago—poor thing!”
There was a brief silence. Mary discreetly avoided looking in Maisie’s direction.
“Are you—are you certain about that other woman?” asked a strained voice.
“I’ve seen him about with her several afternoons.”
“Afternoons? I thought he was busy till five o’clock.”