"That pretty country cousin of Norman's, whom they brought there to save appearances when Norman first left. Huntington is her name."
Keith suddenly grew hot.
"Yes, Ferdy is making love to her, too. Why, they say that is what they have quarrelled about. Louise is insanely jealous, and she is very pretty. Yes--you know, Ferdy is like some other men? Just gregarious! Yes? But Louise Wentworth was always his grande passion. He is just amusing himself with the governess, and she, poor little fool, supposes she has made a conquest. You know how it is?"
"I really know nothing about it," declared Keith, in a flame.
"Yes; and he was always her grande passion? Don't you think so?"
"No, I do not," said Keith, firmly. "I know nothing about it; but I believe she and Norman were devoted,--as devoted a couple as I ever saw,--and I do not see why people cannot let them alone. I think none too well of Ferdy Wickersham, but I don't believe a word against her. She may be silly; but she is a hundred times better than some who calumniate her."
"Oh, you dear boy! You were always so amiable. It's a pity the world is not like you; but it is not."
"It is a pity people do not let others alone and attend to their own affairs," remarked Keith, grimly. "I believe more than half the trouble is made by the meddlers who go around gossiping."
"Don't they! Why, every one is talking about it. I have not been in a drawing-room where it is not being discussed."
"I suppose not," said Mr. Keith.