“I wish,” said Mrs. Tolliver with a frown, “that you wouldn’t say such things. I can’t bear to hear you.”
And presently the talk turned once more to Irene. “She is interested in this young fellow called Krylenko,” said Mrs. Tolliver. “And your mother is willing to have her marry him, though I can’t see why. I would rather see her die an old maid than be married to a foreigner.”
“He is clever, isn’t he?” asked Lily.
“I don’t know about that. He made all this trouble about the strike. Everything would be peaceful still if he hadn’t stirred up trouble. Maybe that’s being clever. I don’t know.”
“But he must be clever if he could do all that. He must be able to lead the workers. I’m glad he did it, myself. The Harrison crowd has ruled the roost long enough. It’ll do them good to have a jolt ... especially when it touches their pocketbooks. I saw him once, myself. He looks like a powerful fellow. I should say that some day you will hear great things of him.”
Mrs. Tolliver sniffed scornfully. “Perhaps ... perhaps. If he is, it will be because Irene made him great. All the same I can’t see her marrying him ... a common immigrant ... a Russian!”
“You needn’t worry. She won’t. She could never marry him. To her he isn’t a man at all. He’s a sort of idea ... a plaster saint!” And for the first time in all her discussion of Irene a shade of hard scorn colored her voice.
XLIV
FOR an hour longer they sat talking over the coffee while Lily smoked indolently cigarette after cigarette beneath the disapproving eye of her cousin. They discussed the affairs of the household, the news in the papers of Mrs. Julis Harrison’s second stroke, of Ellen, and Jean from whom Lily had a letter only that morning.
“Has the Governor ever asked for him?” inquired Mrs. Tolliver, with the passionate look of a woman interested in details.