“Well, she squanders a lot of money at the tables. And then she’s always attached to some new man or the other. Somewhat speckled, you see, in reputation. Introduction not necessary. That sort of thing. I don’t know if it’s true. I hope not.”
“Oh, I suppose it’s true,” said Gerard. “Women generally live a bit below their reputation.”
“I’m glad my indiscretion was not serious,” said his friend.
“Oh, dear, no,” laughed Gerard; and, turning the subject aside, “If you are doing nothing you might as well come and have some lunch with me at the Grande Bretagne.”
The friend assented. They strolled off together. At the hotel, the hall-porter gave Gerard a note which had just arrived. It was a line from Minna promising to be ready for the drive. He felt by no means displeased by his friend’s gossip; if anything, rather more settled in his mind. A beautiful and courted woman with several thousands a year commanded deference. The Queen of Sheba, of Monte Carlo scandal, on the other hand, was fair game. And the ease of the chase appealed to a man who was too masculine in his tastes to have cultivated the delicate gallantries of philandering. He crushed the note roughly into his pocket.
“A put off?” queried his friend.
“I guess not,” replied Gerard fatuously.