She looked at him stonily. “Please explain yourself.”
“You seem to take a great pleasure in this man Nevern’s society. At Lady Wilmot’s party, the evening before I went away——”
“Is that why you went away?” she asked.
There was a moment’s pause. “No,” said Robert, and knew he spoke the truth.
She glanced at him inquiringly, but the moment’s check to the conversation sobered her. Counsels of prudence began to prevail.
“Oh, Robert!” she sighed. “You don’t know how it hurts and surprises me to find this in you. When you talk so, you put yourself on a level with vulgar, chattering women like Lady Wilmot and Mrs. Carruthers, who are always discussing your matrimonial affairs.”
Despite her effort at conciliation, the last remark was forced from Philippa almost despite herself. She flung the missile, scarcely knowing whether it would prove explosive, and with some curiosity awaited results.
“What do they say?” demanded Robert, breathlessly.
For a moment she hesitated. “Mr. Mayne’s name is always mentioned, of course,” she said at last, with a swift glance. “But what does it matter, Robert?”
“Damned lot of gossips!” he exclaimed, below his breath.