'"
"And why is she in dreadful spirits?"
"She isn't!" I replied, laughing.
My poor friend wondered. "What then is she doing?"
"She's walking with your son."
Mrs. Nettlepoint for a moment said nothing; then she treated me to
another inconsequence. "Ah she's horrid!"
"No, she's charming!" I protested.
"You mean she's 'curious'?"
"Well, for me it's the same thing!"
This led my friend of course to declare once more that I was
cold-blooded. On the afternoon of the morrow we had another talk, and
she told me that in the morning Miss Mavis had paid her a long visit. She
knew nothing, poor creature, about anything, but her intentions were good
and she was evidently in her own eyes conscientious and decorous. And
Mrs. Nettlepoint concluded these remarks with the sigh "Unfortunate
person!"
"You think she's a good deal to be pitied then?"
"Well, her story sounds dreary--she told me a good deal of it. She fell
to talking little by little and went from one thing to another. She's in
that situation when a girl _must_ open herself--to some woman."
"Hasn't she got Jasper?" I asked.
"He isn't a woman. You strike me as jealous of him," my companion added.
"I daresay _he_ thinks so--or will before the end. Ah no--ah no!" And I
asked Mrs.
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