"How kind of Professor Balloure!" everybody said. "Such a help to Madame Delancy! How kind of him!"
"Do you think so?" sneered Mrs. Balloure. She did not know what her husband's motive was, but that it was not kindness she was sure. She did not trouble herself to find out, for she did not care. She spoke of the lecture course as "one of Mr. Balloure's whims," and dismissed it from her mind.
She never went into society with him, and really knew nothing of his habitual manner of half-insidious, half-chivalrous gallantry toward young women. If she had she would not have cared; she despised him too thoroughly to be wounded by any thing he might do; and the one great flaw in her nature—her lack of personal dignity—would have prevented her suffering as most women would from mortification. If anybody had gone to her and confided to her proofs of her husband's having had even an intrigue, she would most probably have said in her usual bitter tone, "You are surprised, then!" and have dropped the subject, as one of entire indifference to her.
It is an odd thing how very much franker a manner some types of hypocrites wear than a really frank person ever has. Edward Balloure had an offhand, hilarious, half-confidential way with everybody. He seemed almost lacking in proper reticence and secretiveness, so familiarly did he talk with people
