“Ah, she told you about that discovery, did she?”
“Yes, she couldn’t keep it from me. I saw that she was fretting over something and I teased her till she told me. Don’t you see a difference in her?”
“In what way?”
“Why, she is so subdued, and she thinks a great deal and often lies awake at night. That’s why she’s sleeping now. And she tries to mend her clothes. Dear me!” and Judy began to laugh, “she makes a sad botch of it. She darned a stocking the other day till it was so lumpy she couldn’t wear it. She worries too about breaking her engagement to Captain Macartney. You know that, don’t you?”
“Do you imagine that Miss Delavigne would confide the history of her love affairs to me?”
“No; but you might make her. When are you going to let her leave here, Stanton?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll miss her when she goes, mark my words. You are as red as one of mamma’s lamp shades now merely from thinking about it. I shouldn’t wonder if you are in love with my treasure yourself,” and seizing a fold of Vivienne’s gown she pressed it to her lips.
“Do you see any symptoms of it?” he asked coolly.
“Yes; when you are carving you always give her the bit of meat nearest the bone, and you watch her when no one is looking, and you hate for Val to pay her any attention, and you don’t want Uncle Colonel to come near her. You and I are a sad pair of pagans, Stanton. You don’t like your father, and I don’t like my mother—who isn’t worthy of the name, so I call her mamma. Do you know what makes me hate Uncle Colonel so much?”