'You don't know,' I said. 'You know how anxious women are to fall in love, wife or no wife. How could he help it, if she was determined to fall in love with him?'
'He could have helped it if he'd wanted.'
'Well,' I said, 'we aren't all heroes.'
'Oh, but that's different! The big, good Alfred!—did ever you hear such tommy–rot in your life! Go on—what does she say at the end?'
'Er—We shall be pleased to hear of your life in England. We all send many kind regards to your good parents. I wish you all happiness for your future days. Your very affectionate and ever–grateful Élise.'
There was silence for a moment, during which Mrs. Goyte remained with her head dropped, sinister and abstracted. Suddenly she lifted her face, and her eyes flashed.
'Oh, but I call it beastly, I call it mean, to
