“A lover’s quarrel with—Marjorie Langdon.” Pauline pronounced the name with much impressiveness. If she heard Janet’s sudden, sharply drawn breath, she gave no sign.
“Captain Nichols and Marjorie!” exclaimed Mrs. Fordyce in bewilderment. “You surprise me. I never knew he was attentive to her.”
“I suppose his relationship covers his attentions to the casual observer,” went on Pauline thoughtfully. “How nearly related are they?”
“I believe he is Marjorie’s second cousin,” answered Janet in a voice she strove to make indifferent.
“So there’s no bar to their marriage; except I believe, Miss Langdon does not fancy love in a cottage.”
“You do Marjorie an injustice,” announced Mrs. Fordyce quietly. “If her affections were really engaged, I don’t think she would hesitate to make any sacrifice.”
“I hope your good opinion of her is justified.” Pauline flushed at the rebuke, which Mrs. Fordyce’s manner more than her words, conveyed. “Miss Langdon has gained a reputation for mercenary selfishness.”
“Poverty is apt to teach one the value of money,” replied Mrs. Fordyce. “Still, that is different from being staring and stark mad; and I for one shall give Marjorie the benefit of the doubt. Every cent of money she has, she lavishes on her aunt, Madame Yvonett; that does not look to me like ‘mercenary selfishness.’”
“Miss Langdon is fortunate to have you for a friend,” Pauline rose. “And I am afraid she needs them, poor girl; people are not always prepossessed in her favor.” Her voice expressed deep commiseration, and Mrs. Fordyce felt inclined to box her ears. Accustomed to being accorded every deference by her family, and protected by her seclusion from contact with the free and easy manner of the younger generation to their elders, she deeply resented Pauline’s flouting address and flippant style. Pauline, busy adjusting her furs, missed the disapproving look cast in her direction, and turning to Janet, asked: “Will I see you at the ball tonight?”
“Yes, we expect to go.” Some of the enthusiasm of the morning had gone from the fresh young voice, and again Mrs. Fordyce covertly studied her daughter. What had come over Janet?