But if Jack was--she hardly knew how to put it to herself--so--so
bewitched by Mrs. Crofton as he seemed to be, then perhaps, as they had
got to this point, he had better hear the truth:
"Mrs. Crofton made herself very much talked about in the neighbourhood of
the place where she and her husband settled after the War. She was so
actively unkind, and made him so wretched, that at last he committed
suicide. At least that is what is believed by everyone who knew them in
Essex."
"I suppose a woman told you all this?" he said in a dangerously calm
voice.
"Yes, it was a woman, Jack."
"Of course it was! Every woman, young or old, is jealous of her because
she's so pretty and--so--so feminine, and because she has nothing about
her of the clever, hard woman who is the fashion nowadays! The only
person who does her justice in this place is Rosamund."
"I disapprove very much of Rosamund's silly, school-girlish, adoration of
her," said Janet sharply.
She was just going to add something more when she saw Timmy slipping
quietly back into the room. And all at once she felt sorry--deeply
sorry--that this rather absurd scene had taken place between herself and
Jack.
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