"Well, I knew you'd be sympathetic. It's a shame—a crime!—it's absolutely disgusting the way that men gamble with other people's money and cheat and lie and—and—oh, it's a perfectly rotten world and I'm tired of it!"
"Where is Mrs. Leeds?" he asked in a low voice.
"At Witch-Hollow—in town for this afternoon to see her stupid lawyers. They don't do anything. They say they can't just yet. They're lazy or—something worse. That's my opinion. We go out on the five-three train—Strelsa and I——"
"Is she—much affected?"
"No; and that's the silly part of it. It would simply wreck me. But she hasn't wept a single tear.... I suppose she'll have to marry, now—" Mrs. Wycherly glanced askance at Quarren, but his face remained gravely expressionless.
"Ricky dear?"
"Yes."
"I had a frightful row, on your account, with Mrs. Sprowl."
"I'm sorry. Why?"
"I told her I was going to ask you and Strelsa to Witch-Hollow."