Darrell began to repeat his conversation with Lady Grosville. The tale
threatened presently to become a black one indeed; and at last Ashe
stood still in the broad walk crossing the Green Park.
"Look here," he said, resolutely, "don't tell me any more. I don't want
to hear any more."
"Why?" asked Darrell, in amazement.
"Because"--Ashe hesitated a moment. "Well, I don't want it to be made
impossible for me to go to Madame d'Estrees' again. Besides, we've just
eaten her salt."
"You're a good friend!" said Darrell, not without something of a sneer.
Ashe was ruffled by the tone, but tried not to show it. He merely
insisted that he knew Lady Grosville to be a bit of an old cat; that of
course there was something up; but it seemed a shame for those at least
who accepted Madame d'Estrees' hospitality to believe the worst. There
was a curious mixture of carelessness and delicacy in his remarks, very
characteristic of the man. It appeared as though he was at once too
indolent to go into the matter, and too chivalrous to talk about it.
Darrell presently maintained a rather angry silence. No man likes to be
checked in his story, especially when the check implies something like
a snub from his best friend.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53