"Charley," she broke in, turning her head to look for him; "Charley, do you hear my husband? He would like to—— I thought Charley was here."
"Had he been here, I should not have spoken," was Mr. Grubb's reply, signs of mortification on his refined and sensitive lips.
"Is your rôle going to be that of a jealous husband at last?"
"No," he replied. "You have striven, with unnecessary endeavour, to deaden the love for you which once filled my heart; if that love has not turned to gall and bitterness, it is not your fault. This is not a case for jealousy, Adela. You must know that. I jealous of a schoolboy!"
"What is it a case of, then?"
"Your fair reputation. That shall be cared for in the eyes of the world."
"There is no necessity for your caring for it," she retorted. "My reputation—and your honour—are perfectly safe in my own keeping. There lives not a man who could bring disgrace upon me. You are out of your senses, Mr. Grubb."
"That my honour is safe, I do not doubt," he returned, drawing himself slightly up. "Forgive me, if my words could have borne any other construction. I speak only of your reputation for folly—frivolity. The world is laughing at you: and I do not choose that it shall laugh."
A shade of annoyance flashed into her pretty face. "The world is nothing to me. It had better laugh at itself."
"Perfectly true. But I must take care it does not laugh at you. Your mother spoke to me today about Charles Cleveland. She called you a child, Adela; and she said, if I did not interfere and put a stop to it, she should."