Lauraine quietly waves the great white fan of feathers in her hand to and fro, and looks coldly down at her mother's face.
"Who has been good enough to discuss my affairs with you?" she asks, scornfully.
"Pray don't be offended," says Mrs. Douglas, timidly. "People will talk, you know, and really Keith's adoration is very obvious. He never even seems to see there is another woman in the room when you are by. It really is not fair to you. Why doesn't he marry that Yankee girl who is always running after him? It would be the best thing he could do."
"I will ask him if you wish," says Lauraine; "or perhaps it might be better if you put the question yourself."
Mrs. Douglas feels decidedly uncomfortable. "I am only speaking for your good," she says. "For your child's sake you ought to be careful. Of course, Society is very lax, and women can do things nowadays that in my youth would have been thought disreputable. Still, you make yourself quite too remarkable about Keith. It is far better to have twenty men dangling after you than one."
A hot flush burns on Lauraine's cheeks. "I decline to discuss my affairs with any one," she says, coldly. "I am perfectly well able to take care of myself."
"Ah, people always think that," says Mrs. Douglas, fanning herself leisurely. "Of course you are your own mistress now, and can do as you please. I simply give you a hint. People will talk, you know."
Lauraine's heart beat quickly, stormily, beneath its shrouding laces. A new trouble seems dawning for her, and yet it but rouses in her heart a fierce desire to brave the world—to laugh to scorn its whispers. Is she not strong? Has she not honour—courage—fidelity?
"I will not affect to misunderstand you," she says at last, looking calmly into her mother's face as she speaks. "You think Keith might forget—or I? But you might know us better than that. We are not likely to scandalize Society—be at rest on that point. Is it not possible for a woman and a man to care for each other without love, and without—shame?"
"Possible?—that may be," said Mrs. Douglas. "But probable—I think not. I don't believe in Platonics when a man is under sixty and a woman not forty-five. Nor does the world. Take my advice, dear—there is safety in numbers—don't think only of the attractions of one."