XVI
“Personally,” said Evie, “I think she should have waited six months. After all, Christina, even if her father was acquitted, there is a scandal. I admit she was a wife in name only, as the pictures say, but she was Mrs. Steppe. Teddy quite agrees with me: he says that it isn’t decent to marry within a week of your husband’s death. Don’t think I’m hurt about Ronnie getting married, I wouldn’t be so small. It is the principle of the thing.”
Christina’s mouth was bulging: Ronnie had sent her imposing quantities of candy.
“Pass me that book about Beaulieu that you’re sitting on, and don’t talk so much,” she said. “You’re a jealous cat.”
“I’m not, I declare I’m not. I like Ronnie I admit, but there was something lacking in him—soul, that’s what it was, soul!”
“Did Ambrose Sault have soul?”
“Why—yes, I always thought he had soul.”
“Then shut up!” said Christina, opening her book.
The End