It began to dawn on Helen that Mrs. de la Vere’s friendliness might have a somewhat sordid foundation. Was she tending her merely to secure the freshest details of an affair that must be causing many tongues to wag?
“I am acquiring new theories of life since I came to Maloja,” she said slowly. “One would have thought that I might be the first person to be made aware of Mr. Bower’s intentions.”
“Oh, this is really too funny. May I light a cigarette?”
“Please do. And now it is my turn to ask you to point out the exquisite humor of the situation.”
“Don’t be vexed with me, child. You needn’t say another word if you don’t wish it; but surely you are not annoyed because I have given you the tip as to what took place in the hall?”
“You have been exceedingly good——”
“No. I haven’t. I was just as nasty as the others, and I sneered like the rest when Bower showed up a fortnight since. I was wrong, and I apologize for it. Regard me as in sackcloth and ashes. But my heart went out to you when you dropped like a log among all those staring people. I’ve—I’ve done it myself, and my case was worse than yours. Once in my life I loved a man, and I came home one day from the hunting field to read a telegram from the War Office. He was ‘missing,’ it said—missing—in a rear-guard action in Tirah. Do you know what that means?”
A cloud of smoke hid her face; but it could not stifle the sob in her voice. There was a knock at the door.
“Are you there, Edith?” demanded Reginald de la Vere.