“Miss Graves. She is nursing him. What a charming girl! Her devotion to him is touching. It would be quite a romance if she married Monsieur Raine. He is so handsome.”
Katherine regarded the plump, irresponsible lady with placid gravity.
“You seem to take a romantic interest in them, Madame Popea.”
“Mon Dieu, yes. Anything that concerns love is interesting, especially the idyllic. But you, Madame, would you be surprised if on his return they were betrothed?”
“Il ne faut jamais s'étonner de rien,” quoted Katherine, smiling imperturbably.
“I once thought he had a tendresse for Madame,” ventured Mme. Popea archly.
“Oh, Madame Popea,” laughed Katherine. “You know what men are—and we women ought never to tell each other our impressions. If I told you the flattering remarks I have heard about you this last fortnight, your head would be turned.”
“Ah, who has spoken of me?”
Katherine rose, took out a bonnet from a drawer and somewhat ostentatiously unrolled a veil, while she returned a laughing answer.
“I am too old not to have learned discretion. It is my one vice.”