"No, never!" said Mr. Rodney, suddenly registering a vow to write on the morrow to New York and find out a great deal about Huskinson, against whom he was rapidly conceiving a most deadly hatred.
"He seems very young to have got a divorce," her Grace whispered reflectively. "However, in America I suppose they begin earlier than we do over here. People develop more rapidly, I believe."
"Yes, Duchess; but about Mrs. Verulam and Mr. Van Adam. What are people saying?"
Mr. Rodney's note was hoarse.
"Oh, the usual thing. And certainly it is a little strange, his coming all the way from Florida to stay with her—alone in the house, too. A little injudicious, certainly. Old Martha Sage is terribly shocked about it. She declares it is the most extraordinary affair she has known since the Crimean War!"
Mr. Rodney turned pale in the darkness. On what a precipice was Mrs. Verulam walking. And James Bush, too! But Lady Sage and the Duchess knew nothing yet of him. The darkness became to Mr. Rodney like a spinning ball, in whose interior he violently revolved through space. He was recalled to himself by hearing the Duchess say:
"Are you going on to the panthers?"
"The panthers?"
"Of Sartorius, at Mrs. Vigors' in Brook Street?"