"I am sure Sir Francis was always most kind to her," resumes Mrs. Douglas presently. "Always when I have seen them together."
"I believe it is not a rule in good society for husband and wife to quarrel openly," remarks Lady Etwynde.
"She should have been content and sensible like other people," goes on Mrs. Douglas, disregarding the interruption. "Good gracious, every one knows such things go on. You can't make saints of men. You must take them as they are. And did she actually make Lady Jean leave the house?"
"She would have been scarcely less guilty than Lady Jean had she condoned her presence, knowing what she knew," says Lady Etwynde, with rising indignation. "Even if a husband does not love his wife, he at least should treat her with common decency."
"I daresay Lauraine brought it all on herself. A man can't always put up with such airs as those to which she treated Sir Francis, and, in contrast with Lady Jean, why Lauraine was—nothing."
"No," agrees Lady Etwynde. "A good woman and pure-minded generally looks colourless and tame beside a wicked one. The contrast is too strong I suppose."
Mrs. Douglas looks at her sharply. She does not like her tone, nor understand it.
"Well, I only hope it will come right," she says. "I shall write to Lauraine and advise her to make it up with her husband. It is so stupid, making a fuss and exposé—losing everything, and all for—what?"
"I think," says Lady Etwynde quietly, "that you do not understand your daughter, and you do her injustice. A woman must know when to support her own dignity; I suppose you allow that?"
"I daresay Lauraine made a great deal of unnecessary fuss; it would be just like her. She is full of romance and high-flown ideas. If she had been quite circumspect herself it would not matter; but after getting herself talked about with Keith—I myself had to warn her—I think Sir Francis was very good to overlook it."