“Mrs. Loring,” I replied slowly and distinctly, “your ingenuousness charms me. You call Mrs. Gibson’s conduct shameless: yet you yourself would empty half the bachelors’ clubs in London. I forget precisely the number of years it is since you first endeavored to curtail my own celibate freedom, but I believe you have devoted no small part of your attention to my poor case.”
“Millie Dixon is different,” she retorted.
Of course Millicent was different, but I held her to the logic.
“We are not discussing Millicent, but the ethics of angling. I am surprised that you should not recognise your own position in the matter. You do not want me to be more precise?”
“I don’t want you to be anything but moderately sane,” she returned. “If you can’t see the difference between the Gibsons and Millicent Dixon——”
She left me to conclude the sentence for myself. Mrs. Loring Chatterton was in a bad temper, and evaded the argument pettishly. I turned to Caroline.
“Has my little sister anything to say?” I asked, in a “come one come all” tone.
She hadn’t. She cuddled her face against my shoulder, and pulled nervously at her glove fingers.
“But, Rol, dear,” she said anxiously, “what were you and Miss Gibson talking about?”
I took her hand.