"My dear, it attacks young and old. Once the liver gets out of order, there's no telling. Captain Bohun was born in India; and they are more liable to liver complaint, it's said, than others. You are driving alone to-day, as usual," continued Mrs. Gass.
"I like to be independent. Frank won't show himself in this little chaise; he says it is no better than a respectable wheelbarrow; and I'm sure I am not going to be troubled with a groom at my side."
"If all tales told are true, you'll soon run a chance of losing your independence," rejoined Mrs. Gass. "People say a certain young lady, not a hundred miles at this moment from, my elbow, is likely to give her heart away."
Instead of replying, Mary Dallory blushed violently. Observant Mrs. Gass saw and noticed it.
"Then it is true!" she exclaimed.
"What's true?" asked Mary.
"That you are likely to be married."
"No, it is not."
"My dear, you may as well tell me. You know me well; I'll keep good counsel."
"But I have nothing to tell you. How can I imagine what you mean?"