"
"But," persisted Helen, with an unconscious irony which Fenton would
have keenly appreciated had he but been there to hear, "in our class of
course it's different. A nice sense of honor is after all very much a
social matter nowadays. That may sound a bit snobbish, but don't you
think it is true?"
"It is and it isn't," was Mr. Candish's reply. "It would undoubtedly be
true if religious principle did not come into the matter; but religious
principle is stronger in what we call the middle classes than among
their social superiors."
Mrs. Greyson was not sufficiently interested to continue the
discussion, and she let the matter drop, while Edith contented herself
with reiterating her conviction in Melissa's perfect trustworthiness.
They chatted upon indifferent subjects for a little while, and then Mr.
Candish went to keep an appointment at the bedside of a sick
parishioner; so that Helen and Edith were left alone.
They sat together a little longer, and then Helen asked casually,--
"By the way, Edith, how long has Arthur been painting Ninitta?"
"Painting Ninitta?" echoed Edith.
She remembered the wrap she had seen in the studio, with the wavering
evasion of her husband's eyes when her glance had sought his in
question, and painful forebodings against which she had striven, lest
they should become suspicions, were awakened by Helen's words.
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