“You have discovered that people are talking about us--about you and me. I must say I wonder you care. I don’t care, and if it ‘s because of Gordon, you might as well know that he does n’t care. If he does n’t care, I don’t see why I should; and if I don’t, I don’t see why you should!” “You pay too much attention to such insipid drivel in even mentioning it.” “Well, if I have the credit of saying what I should n’t--to you or to any one else--I don’t see why I should n’t have the advantage too. Gordon does n’t care--he does n’t care what I do or say. He does n’t care a pin for me!” She spoke in her usual rattling, rambling voice, and brought out this declaration with a curious absence of resentment. “You talk about advantage,” said Bernard. “I don’t see what advantage it is to you to say that.” “I want to--I must--I will! That ‘s the advantage!” This came out with a sudden sharpness of tone; she spoke more excitedly. “He does n’t care a button for me, and he never did! I don’t know what he married me for. He cares for something else--he thinks of something else. I don’t know what it is--I suppose it ‘s chemistry!” These words gave Bernard a certain shock, but he had his intelligence sufficiently in hand to contradict them with energy. “You labor under a monstrous delusion,” he exclaimed. “Your husband thinks you fascinating.” This epithet, pronounced with a fine distinctness, was ringing in the air when the door opened and Gordon came in. He looked for a moment from Bernard to his wife, and then, approaching the latter, he said, softly-- “Do you know that he leaves us to-morrow?” CHAPTER XVIII