at Westmore are going to cost a great deal more than my experienced son-in-law expected. This is Westy’s morning budget—he and Amherst had it out last night. I tell my poor girl that at least she’ll lose nothing when the bibelots I’ve bought for her go up the spout.”
Mrs. Ansell received this with a troubled countenance. “What has become of Bessy? I’ve not seen her since luncheon.”
“No. She and Blanche Carbury have motored over to dine with the Nick Ledgers at Islip.”
“Did you see her before she left?”
“For a moment, but she said very little. Westy tells me that Amherst hints at leasing the New York house. One can understand that she’s left speechless.”
Mrs. Ansell, at this, sat bolt upright. “The New York house?” But she broke off to add, with seeming irrelevance: “If you knew how I detest Blanche Carbury!”
Mr. Langhope made a gesture of semi-acquiescence. “She is not the friend I should have chosen for Bessy—but we know that Providence makes use of strange instruments.”
“Providence and Blanche Carbury?” She stared at him. “Ah, you are profoundly corrupt!”
“I have the coarse masculine habit of looking facts in the face. Woman-like, you prefer to make use of them privately, and cut them when you meet in public.”
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