"
"Ashe will be a great fool if he lets his wife see much of that woman!
By all accounts Lady Kitty is quite enough of a handful already.
By-the-way, have you found out where they are?"
"On the Grand Canal. Shall we call this afternoon?"
"I don't mind. Of course, I think Ashe is doing an immense amount of
harm."
"Well, you can tell him so," said Mary.
Sir Richard frowned. His daughter's manners seemed to him at times
abrupt.
"Why do you see so little now of Elizabeth Tranmore?" he asked her, with
a sharp look. "You used to be always there. And I don't believe you even
write to her much now."
"Does she see much of anybody?"
"Because, you mean, of Tranmore's condition? What good can she be to him
now? He knows nobody."
"She doesn't seem to ask the question," said Mary, dryly.
A queer, soft look came over Sir Richard's old face.
"No, the women don't," he said, half to himself, and fell into a little
reverie. He emerged from it with the remark--accompanied by a smile, a
little sly but not unkind:
"I always used to hope, Polly, that you and Ashe would have made it up!"
"I'm sure I don't know why," said Mary, fastening up her envelopes.
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