"I shouldn't think she would, with all the row and rumpus they've been having in their family. Abductions and murders and abscondings at one's door are not conducive to light-heartedness."
"She's annoyed by all this gossip about her and Warry. She doesn't know that Wheaton is supposed to have taken more than a friendly interest in her."
"Well, I wouldn't tell her that, if I were you—if Wheaton didn't."
"Of course he didn't!"
"Well, he didn't then." The syphon hissed into the glass.
"Evelyn and Warry weren't engaged," said Mrs. Whipple. The general held up the glass and watched the gas bubbling to the top.
"It's just as well that way," he said. "It saves her a lot of heartache."
"That's what I think," said Mrs. Whipple promptly. In such conversations as this she usually combated the general's opinions. An exception to the rule was so noteworthy that he began to pay serious attention.
"They weren't, but they might have been. Is that it?"
"No. Anything might have been. There's no use speculating about what can't be now."