every one. But how could you have forgotten the talk that went the rounds? It was common property . . . common property."
Miss Abercombie sighed deeply. "I know . . . I know. Julia's life has not been happy." And into the sigh she put a thousand implications of the superior happiness of virgins.
"Of course," said Mrs. Harrison, "he was insane. There's no doubt about it. People may talk, but facts are facts. John Shane was insane . . . certainly toward the end he was insane."
The butler brought the roast fowl, and until his back was turned once more both women kept silence. When he had gone out of the room, they found themselves striving for first place in the race. Both spoke at once but Mrs. Harrison overwhelmed the sycophantic Abercrombie.
"Of course," she said, "I think Julia herself is a little queer at times. I've noticed it for years . . . ever since . . . well . . . ever since Lily went to Paris to live."
"Yes," observed Miss Abercrombie, moving toward something more definite. "Ever since the Governor's garden party. All that was very queer . . . very queer."
Here again they found themselves halted by the immensity of the unspoken. Mrs. Harrison veered aside.
"The house has gone to ruin. Even the gate is hanging by one hinge. Nothing is kept up any longer."
"Have you seen this lover of Irene's?" asked Miss Abercrombie, calling a spade a spade and endeavoring to keep to one thing at a time.
"I've seen him once . . . William pointed him out to me at the Mills. He's one of the men who have been making trouble there."
"Is he good looking?" asked Miss Abercrombie.
"Yes and no," replied her companion.
"Well, what does that mean?"
"Well, he's tall and has a handsome face . . . a little evil perhaps. The real trouble is that I should call him common. Yes, commen is the word I should use, decidedly common."
Miss Abercrombie raised her eyebrows and smiled, "But, my dear, after all he is nothing but a workman."
