l never tell me anything: he is not one of those who
tell.'

'If she didn't ask him, what you say is a great wrong to her,' said Mrs.
Nettlepoint.

'Yes, if she didn't. But you say that to protect Jasper, not to protect
her,' I continued, smiling.

'You _are_ cold-blooded--it's uncanny!' my companion exclaimed.

'Ah, this is nothing yet! Wait a while--you'll see. At sea in general
I'm awful--I pass the limits. If I have outraged her in thought I will
jump overboard. There are ways of asking (a man doesn't need to tell a
woman that) without the crude words.'

'I don't know what you suppose between them,' said Mrs. Nettlepoint.

'Nothing but what was visible on the surface. It transpired, as the
newspapers say, that they were old friends.'

'He met her at some promiscuous party--I asked him about it afterwards.
She is not a person he could ever think of seriously.'

'That's exactly what I believe.'

'You don't observe--you imagine,' Mrs. Nettlepoint pursued.' How do you
reconcile her laying a trap for Jasper with her going out to Liverpool
on an errand of love?'

'I don't for an instant suppose she laid a trap; I believe she acted on
the impulse of the moment. She is going out to Liverpool on an errand of
marriage; that is not necessarily the same thing as an errand of love,
especially for one who happens to have had a personal impression of the
gentleman she is engaged to.'

'Well, there are certain decencies which in such a situation the most
abandoned of her sex would still observe. You apparently judge her
capable--on no evidence--of violating them.'

'Ah, you don't understand the shades of things,' I rejoined. 'Decencies
and violations--there is no need for such heavy artillery! I can
perfectly imagine that without the least immodesty she should have said
to Jasper on the balcony, in fact if not in words--"I'm in dreadful
spirits, but if you come I shall feel better, and that will be pleasant
for you too."'

'And why is she in dreadful spirits?'

'She isn't!' I replied, laughing.

'What is she doing?'

'She is walking with your son.'

Mrs. Nettlepoint said nothing for a moment; then she broke out,
inconsequently--'Ah, she's horrid!'

'No, she's charming!' I protested.

'You mean she's "curious"?'

'Well, for me it's the same thing!'

This led my friend of course to declare once more that I was
cold-blooded. On the afternoon of the morrow we had another talk, and
she told me that in the mo