"I leave it to you and Mrs. Wycherly. The main idea is to clear out and let them howl and tear things up."
"Howl at Mrs. Ledwith and tear her to tatters while we start around the world on the Yulan?" nodded Strelsa. She was rather white, but she laughed; and he, hearing her, turned and laughed, too—a quick bark of a laugh that startled both horses who were unaccustomed to it.
"Oh, I guess they won't put her out of business," he said. "She's young and handsome and there are plenty of her sort to marry her—even Dankmere would have a chance there or—" he hesitated, and decided to refrain. But she understood perfectly, and lost the remainder of her colour.
"You mean Mr. Quarren," she said coolly.
"I didn't," he replied, lying. And she was aware of his falsehood, too.
"What started those rumours about Mrs. Ledwith and you, Langly?" she asked in the same pleasantly even tone, and turned her horse's head toward home at the same time. He made his mount pivot showily on his hocks and drew bridle beside her.
"Oh, they started at Newport."
"How?"
"How do I know? Ledwith and I were connected in business matters; I saw more or less of them both—and he was too busy to be with his wife every time I happened to be with her. So—you know what they said."
"Yes. When you and she were lunching at different tables at the Santa Regina you used to write notes to her, and everybody saw you."