Mrs. Wentworth's eyes rested on his face for a moment.
"Why, yes; many think her much handsomer than she ever was. She is one of the married beauties, you know." Her eyes just swept Keith's face.
"She was also one of the sweetest girls I ever knew," Keith said, moved for some reason to add this tribute.
"Well, I don't know that every one would call her that. Indeed, I am not quite sure that I should call her that myself always; but she can be sweet. My children adore her, and I think that is always a good sign."
"Undoubtedly. They judge correctly, because directly."
The picture of a young girl in a riding-habit kneeling in the dust with a chubby, little, ragged child in her arms flashed before Keith's mental vision. And he almost gave a gasp.
"Is she married happily?'" he asked "I hope she is happy."
"Oh, as happy as the day is long," declared Mrs. Wentworth, cheerfully. Deep down in her eyes was a wicked twinkle of malice. Her face wore a look of content. "He is not altogether indifferent yet," she said to herself. And when Keith said firmly that he was very glad to hear it, she did him the honor to disbelieve him.
"Of course, you know that Mr. Lancaster is a good deal older than Alice?"
Yes, Keith had heard so.