"Nothing of what?" demanded Irene.
"Of that weak, silly nonsense. We have graver matters in hand for consideration now."
"Ah?" She threw up her eyebrows, then contracted them again with an angry severity.
"Irene," said Mr. Emerson, his voice falling into a calm but severe tone, "all this is but weakness and folly. I have heard things touching your good name—"
"And believe them," broke in Irene, with angry impatience.
"I have said nothing as to belief or disbelief. The fact is grave enough."
"And you have illustrated your faith in the slander—beautifully, becomingly, generously!"
"Irene!"
"Generously, as a man who knew his wife. Ah, well!" This last ejaculation was made almost lightly, but it involved great bitterness of spirit.
"Do not speak any longer after this fashion," said Hartley, with considerable irritation of manner; "it doesn't suit my present temper. I want something in a very different spirit. The matter is of too serious import. So pray lay aside your trifling. I came to you as I had a right to come, and made inquiries touching your associations when not in my company. Your answers are not satisfactory, but tend rather to con—"