Jack Allingham, have it—eh? He did!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
He said that a morbidly jealous wife is one of the saddest spectacles the world presents; but that when her jealousy leads her to attempt to blacken the reputation, the hitherto spotless reputation, of another woman—in this instance, a young lady more happily married than herself—then that jealous wife becomes a positive danger to society.
Mrs. Emptage.
I ought to have been there, ’Tina. I said it was my duty, if you remember.
Justina.
I might have gone.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Certainly; and yet you have both sat at home, quaking; behaving, for all the world, as if you have a lurking suspicion that Theophila really may—really has—really did——
Mrs. Emptage.
Kate, I will not permit you to say such a thing!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Why these miserable-looking gowns then? You are dressed more funereally to-day than you were yesterday!
Mrs. Emptage.
[Tearfully.] If you live to see a daughter of yours, however innocent she may be, dragged through the Divorce Court——!
Justina.
We haven’t been quite certain what we ought to put on.
Mrs. Emptage.
I considered half-mourning rather a happy thought.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
To my mind, it looks as if you had deliberately prepared for all emergencies.
Mrs. Emptage.
[Rising, in a flutter.] ’Tina, pin some flowers in your dress at once! I’ll get Bristow to stick a bit of relief about me somewhere. And I’ll wear some more rings——
[She goes out. Justina selects some cut flowers from a vase on the pianoforte.
Justina.
Oh, Kit, we were dreadfully in the dumps. Bless you for bullying us!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[Taking a pin from her hat.] Come here.
Justina.
[Going to Mrs. Twelves.] By Jove, though! it would have been too rough on us if—if—wouldn’t it?
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[Attaching the flowers to the bodice of Justina’s dress.] Pray complete your sentence.
Justina.
Well—if Mrs. Allingham had made out her case against Jack Allingham and Theo.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
For shame, ’Tina!
Justina.
Oh, you’re awfully prudish all of a sudden, Kate. You’ve very soon forgotten—— Mind that pin!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
What are you saying?
Justina.
I mean, it isn’t as if we hadn’t all been just a leetle rapid in our time, we three girls—Theo, you, and I. You needn’t be quite so newly-married-womanish with me.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Shut up!
Justina.
[Glancing round.] No one’s there.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[In an undertone.] We always knew where to draw the line, I hope.
Justina.
Of course we did. Only, when you’re married, as Theo is, to a cold, dry mummy of a man like Alexander Fraser, the line’s apt to get drawn rather zigzag.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[Finishing with the flowers.] Go away!
Justina.
Thanks—they’re jolly. [Picking up a little mirror from the table, and making a wry face at herself.] I haven’t had a night’s sound sleep for weeks.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
I should think not, with such thoughts in your head. Poor Theo! I’ve been fretting about her too, in a different way.
Justina.
[Adjusting the flowers with the aid of the mirror.] Yes, but it isn’t only Theo. I’ve been doing a bit of lying-awake on my own account, I can tell you.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Why?
Justina.
[Moistening her eyelashes as she again surveys her face.] Why, if this business had gone against my sister, it wouldn’t have bettered my chances—eh?
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
No, perhaps it wouldn’t.
Justina.
I’m twenty—oh, you know——
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Nine.
Justina.
Ugh, dash it, yes! And this beastly scrape of Theophila’s has been no end of a shocker for me. From to-day I turn over the proverbial new leaf.
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
So glad, dear.
Justina.
Just fancy! I’m the only single one out of we three musketeers. Great Scot, Kate, suppose I got left!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[With a laugh.] ’Tina!
Justina.
But I won’t, you mark me! From to-day I’ll alter—I take my oath I will! No more slang for me, no more swears, no more smokes with the men after dinner, no more cycling at the club in knickers! I’ve been giving too much away——!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
[Listening.]
