Mrs. Carter sank back in her rocking-chair and looked weak.
“I saw them this morning. I’d been to market. Mrs. Payson came along in her new limousine, and she stopped and picked me up. I don’t know why it had to happen so, but the chauffeur took the short cut for this house—you know, the little lane behind the Methodist church.”
She paused for breath, and Daniel nodded. He was very grave now.
“As we turned the corner we both saw them—I mean Mrs. Payson and I—and of course the chauffeur did, too, come to think of it. Fanchon was talking to that man—I think his name’s Corwin.”
“Well, mother, if she knows him, perhaps she had to speak to him.”
“Speak to him? They were walking up and down in that out-of-the-way corner, and they were quarreling. I’m sure they were quarreling. They didn’t notice us.”
“Quarreling?” Daniel laughed. “I thought you were going to say that he was making love to her.”
“It’s just the same thing—the way they looked. Mrs. Payson thought so, too. Daniel, there’s talk about them; I know there is! What shall I do?”
“Don’t you think you’d better leave it alone, mother?” Daniel suggested. “I’m not sure that we’re not to blame. Fanchon seems to think we are.”
“You’re not taking her part, are you, Dan? Emily—that child’s ridiculous, she’s copying her—Emily says we’re setting Willie against her.”