"Did you suppose I didn't know it?" she asked quietly. "Oh, but I did; and it kept me awake nights, worrying. Yet I knew it must have been all right—knowing you as I do. But do you suppose other people would hold you as innocent as I do? Even Eileen—the sweetest, whitest, most loyal little soul in the world—was troubled when Rosamund hinted at some scandal touching you and Alixe. She told me—but she did not tell me what Rosamund had said—the mischief maker!"
His face had become quite colourless; he raised an unsteady hand to his mouth, touching his moustache; and his gray eyes narrowed menacingly.
"Rosamund—spoke of scandal to—Eileen?" he repeated. "Is that possible?"
"How long do you suppose a girl can live and not hear scandal of some sort?" said Nina. "It's bound to rain some time or other, but I prepared my little duck's back to shed some things."
"You say," insisted Selwyn, "that Rosamund spoke of me—in that way—to Eileen?"
"Yes. It only made the child angry, Phil; so don't worry."
"No; I won't worry. No, I—I won't. You are quite right, Nina. But the pity of it; that tight, hard-shelled woman of the world—to do such a thing—to a young girl."
"Rosamund is Rosamund," said Nina with a shrug; "the antidote to her species is obvious."
"Right, thank God!" said Selwyn between his teeth; "Mens sana in corpore sano! bless her little heart! I'm glad you told me this, Nina."
He rose and laughed a little—a curious sort of laugh; and Nina watched him, perplexed.