"
"To do what?"
"To keep Marut tolerable for us."
"I can't prevent Mr. Travers gossiping if he wants to."
A smile flitted over Mrs. Cary's fat face, robbing it of its good-nature
and leaving it merely vulgarly cunning.
"You could if you wanted to."
"How?"
"Oh, you know! You have a way with men. You could shut his mouth."
Beatrice laughed outright.
"There are moments when you betray your origin in the most painful way,
mother," she said cruelly. "A remark like that in Mrs. Carmichael's
hearing, and we should find Marut too hot for us without any assistance
from Mr. Travers."
"I'm sorry," Mrs. Cary apologized humbly. "It slipped out. What I meant
was, that I am sure you could manage him. And you know you could,
Beatrice."
Beatrice looked at her reflection in the glass. There was little feminine
vanity in the glance--rather a cool judging and appraising, untempered
with any personal prejudice.
"I suppose I could," she admitted.
"Won't you?"
"Would it make you very happy?"
"It would be my first moment's real peace since I saw Mr. Travers at the
garden-party."
"Well, I'll do my best."
"You promise?"
"Yes, I'll promise if you want me to."
Mrs. Cary drew a deep sigh of relief.
"That's one thing about you, you keep your promises, Beatrice," she said.
"It is rather curious, under the circumstances, isn't it?" the younger
woman returned, submitting to the mother's grateful embrace with an
indifference which seemed to indicate more than an indifference--rather a
stoic, smothered antipathy.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69