This time Fanny’s negative was low and a little tremulous. Mrs. Price glanced meaningly at her husband, but the dean, placidly spreading butter on a toasted muffin, was oblivious to the warning.
“I never believed in him, Fan—he’s too handsome. Personally I have more confidence in little plain old men, getting slightly bald and wearing spectacles.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Edward! We all know you. But it’s—it’s really terrible. Do you suppose Diane intends to get a divorce?”
The dean shook his head helplessly.
“Search me!”
“Edward! Those horrid boys are teaching you slang!”
“Of course they are, my dear. Slang is an expression of the age. I’m making a study of it, but I haven’t used much. If I did, I should say that I heard your news without even batting an eye.”
Mrs. Price rose and set her empty cup on the table.
“I think it’s time for me to go up-stairs and take off my things. I really do wish, Edward, you’d think it over. Something ought to be done. The judge is going to let that child ruin her whole life right at the start. You’re a minister of the gospel, as well as the dean of a seminary, and it’s your duty—it certainly is your duty—to preach the word. There’s nothing in it to favor divorce, and you know it!”
“My dear Julia—” the dean began, but she was already at the stairs, and she only called back something to him about David and Uriah’s wife as she disappeared.