She told me--but she did not tell me
what Rosamund had said--the mischief maker!"
His face had become quite colourless; he raised an unsteady hand to his
mouth, touching his moustache; and his gray eyes narrowed menacingly.
"Rosamund--spoke of scandal to--Eileen?" he repeated. "Is that
possible?"
"How long do you suppose a girl can live and not hear scandal of some
sort?" said Nina. "It's bound to rain some time or other, but I prepared
my little duck's back to shed some things."
"You say," insisted Selwyn, "that Rosamund spoke of me--in that way--to
Eileen?"
"Yes. It only made the child angry, Phil; so don't worry."
"No; I won't worry. No, I--I won't. You are quite right, Nina. But the
pity of it; that tight, hard-shelled woman of the world--to do such a
thing--to a young girl."
"Rosamund is Rosamund," said Nina with a shrug; "the antidote to her
species is obvious."
"Right, thank God!" said Selwyn between his teeth; "_Mens sana in
corpore sano_! bless her little heart! I'm glad you told me this, Nina.
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