“What’s he going there about? About that old affair? You seem to know his plans better than he does. I see by the papers it’s up again. Or about that railroad scheme Bolter’s working at? He’s down there now. Larry said he had to see the Senator.”
“No, about a new affair—Larry Middleton is in love with Alice,” said Mrs. Clough, with entire unconsciousness of the singularity of her sudden and unexpected bouleversement. Her husband turned round on her in blank amazement.
“Wha-at!” He strung the word out in his surprise.
“Yes—you men are so blind. He’s in love with Alice; was with her abroad and came home to see her.” She was suddenly interested in a very small baby-garment she was sewing on.
“Why, you just said he was in love with Ruth Welch!”
“Did I?” she asked, quietly, as calm as a May morning, and apparently with perfect indifference.
“—And you said Mrs. Bolter would catch him for her loud, sporty daughter!”
“Oh! I believe I did.” She was turning a hem. “One, two, three,” she counted. “Well, she won’t get him.” She was interested only in the baby-garment.
“Are they engaged?”