a deeply significant tone . . . I haven't seen very much of you lately. Nobody has seen very much of you lately, except . . . she hesitated.
Except, the Countess filled in promptly, Gareth Johns.
Mayme Townsend stared at her in amazement. The frankness of the Countess seemed brazen to her. Exactly, she remarked, flushing with excitement. Exactly. That's what I came to see you about. Ella, are you losing your mind? I came to warn you, for your own good: the whole town's talking about you.
I was sure of it, the Countess replied, coldly. They have so little to talk about aside from the water-works and the new depot.
Now, don't be sarcastic, Ella. Can't you see where this is heading? You must consider your position.
That is precisely what I do consider, my position.
The tone of the Countess would have warned any one sensitive to danger signals, but Mayme Townsend rushed blindly on, How can you be seen everywhere with that boy?
I was not aware that I was seen everywhere with him. I see him when I choose to, but my purpose has not been to arrange an exhibition. He happens to amuse and interest me . . . The Countess rose to her feet . . . However, I have no intention of defending my actions. I can't possibly conceive . . .
