"There it is!" shouted Adela, in glee; "the murder's out! So it is you who have been putting mamma up to complain to Mr. Grubb! You are setting your cap at that sanctimonious Dr. Short, and you fear he won't see it if you have a naughty sister given to flirting. Oh, Gracie!"
"You are wrong; you know you are wrong. How frivolous you are, Adela! Dr. Short is going to be married to Miss Greatlands."
"Well, there's something of the sort in the wind, I know. If it's not the Reverend Dr. Short, it's the Reverend Dr. Long; so don't shake your head at me, Gracie."
Dancing across the room, Adela rang the bell. "My carriage," she said to the servant.
"It has been waiting some time, my lady."
"Where are you going?" asked Grace, surprised:
"To Lady Sanely's."
"To Lady Sanely's," echoed the elder sister. Then, after a pause, "Your husband did not know you were going there?"
"Do you suppose I tell him of my engagements? What next, I wonder?"
"Oh, Adela!" uttered Grace, rising from her seat—and there was a piercing sound of grief in her tone, deeper than any which had characterized it throughout the interview—"do not say you are going there! Another rumour is rife about you; worse than that half-nonsensical one about Charles Cleveland; one likely to have a far graver effect on your welfare and happiness."