that cloud darken this happy day! How that poor man has suffered! And such a gentleman with it all. Such delicacy! I could tell you things about him! But never mind!"
What has he given her? I thought.
Fay and Mme. Storey ignored her interruption. "But I think," the former went on with gentle censure, "that she ought to have considered what a dreadful blow it would be to her husband."
"Still," said Mme. Storey dryly, "if she had not done it, you would not be marrying him now."
"No-o,"
The exasperating thing about that woman was that her talk never meant anything. She surrounded herself with a cloud of words. Nobody ever paid any attention to what she said. Talk with her was a sort of nervous habit, like biting the fingernails.
Meanwhile Mme. Storey was gazing into Fay's face with