"Poor Hector has enough of them from mother," she explained, when Monica
Ellerwood asked her once why she was so cold. "And men don't care for
those sort of things, except from some one else's sister or wife."
"Dear old boy!" was all she said as he came in. "I am glad to see you
back."
Then in a moment or two they went down to dinner, talking of various
things. And all through it, while the servants were in the room, she
prattled about Paris and their friends and the gossip of the day; and
she had a shocking cold in her head, too, and might well have been
forgiven for being dull.
But when they were at last alone, back in the little sitting-room, she
looked at him hard, and her voice, which was rather deep like his, grew
full of tenderness as she asked: "What is it, Hector? Tell me about it
if I can help you."
He got up and stood with his back to the wood fire, which sparkled in
the grate, comforting the eye with its brightness, while the wind and
rain moaned outside.
"You can't help me, Anne; no one can," he said. "I have been rather
badly burned, but there is nothing to be done. It is my own fault--so
one must just bear it."
"Is it the--eh--the Frenchwoman?" his sister asked, gently.
"Good Lord, no!"
"Or the American Monica came back so full of?"
"The American? What American? Surely she did not mean my dear Mrs.
McBride?"
"I don't know her name," Anne said, "and I don't want you to say a thing
about it, dear, if I can't help you; only it just grieves me to see you
looking so sad and distrait, so I felt I must try if there is anything I
can do for you. Mother has been on thorns and dying of fuss over this
Frenchwoman and the diamond chain--("How the devil did she hear about
that?" thought Hector)--until Monica came back with a tale of your
devotion to an American."
"One would think I was eighteen years old and in leading-strings still,
upon my word," he interrupted, with an irritated laugh. "When will she
realize I can take care of myself?"
"Never," said Lady Anningford, "until you have married Morella
Winmarleigh; then she would feel you were in good hands."
He laughed again--bitterly this time.
"Morella Winmarleigh! I would not be faithful to her for a week!"