"Well, I'm exactly what the Warden is and what Lady Dashwood is," said Gwendolen.
"Ah, my Lady Dashwood," said Louise, breaking into a tone of tragic melancholy. "I pray always for her. Ah! but she is good, and the good God knows it. But she is not well." And Louise changed her tone to one of mild speculation. "Madame perhaps is souffrante because of so much fresh air and the absence of shops."
"It is foolish to suppose that the Warden does just what Lady Dashwood tells him. That doesn't happen in this part of the world," said Gwendolen, her mind still rankling on Louise's remark about Lady Dashwood not esteeming—as if, indeed, Lady Dashwood was the important person, as if, indeed, it was to please Lady Dashwood that the Warden was to marry!
"Ah, no," said Louise. "The monsieurs here come and go just like guests in their homes. They do as they choose. The husband in England says never—as he does in France: 'I come back, my dearest, at the first moment possible, to assist you entertain our dear grandmamma and our dear aunt.' No, he says that not; and the English wife she never says: 'Where have you been? It is an hour that our little Suzette demands that the father should show her again her new picture book!' Ah, no. I find that the English messieurs have much liberty."
"It must be deadly for men in France," said Gwendolen.
"It is always funny or deadly with Mademoiselle," replied Louise.
But she felt that she had obtained enough information of an indirect nature to strengthen her in her suspicions that Lady Dashwood had arranged a marriage between the Warden and Mrs. Dashwood, but that the Warden had not played his part, and, notwithstanding his dignified appearance, was amusing himself with both his guests in a manner altogether reprehensible.
Ah! but it was a pity!
When Louise left the room Gwendolen went to the wardrobe, and took out the coat that Louise had put away. She felt in the wrong pocket first, which was empty, and then in the right one and found the ten-shilling note. Now that she had it in her hand it seemed to her amazing that Mrs. Potten, with her big income, should have fussed over such a small matter. It was shabby of her.
Gwendolen took her purse out of a drawer which she always locked up. Even if her purse only contained sixpence, she locked it up because she took for granted that it would be "stolen."