“I can’t understand it at all,” Miss Gleason confessed. “But I’m sure there’s nothing in it. He isn’t her equal. She would feel that it wasn’t right—under the circumstances.”
“But if Mrs. Maynard was well it would be a fair game, you mean,” said Mrs. Alger.
“No,” returned Miss Gleason, with the greatest air of candor, “I can’t admit that I meant that.”
“Well,” said the elder lady, “the presumption is against them. Every young couple seen together must be considered in love till they prove the contrary.”
“I like it in her,” said Mrs. Frost. “It shows that she is human, after all. It shows that she is like other girls. It’s a relief.”
“She isn’t like other girls,” contended Miss Gleason darkly.
“I would rather have Mr. Libby’s opinion,” said Mrs. Merritt.
Grace went to Mrs. Maynard’s room, and told her that Dr. Mulbridge was coming directly after dinner.
“I knew you would do it!” cried Mrs. Maynard, throwing her right arm round Grace’s neck, while the latter bent over to feel the pulse in her left. “I knew where you had gone as soon as your mother told me you had driven off with Walter Libby. I’m so glad that you’ve got somebody to consult! Your theories are perfectly right and I’m sure that Dr. Mulbridge will just tell you to keep on as you’ve been doing.”
Grace withdrew from her caress. “Dr. Mulbridge is not coming for a consultation. He refused to consult with me.”