CHAPTER XXII.

QUINTARD IS DISCUSSED.

The next afternoon Hermia was sitting in the library with Miss Starbruck when Helen came in. Hermia greeted her eagerly. Helen always diverted her mind. Perversely, also, she wanted to hear some one speak of Quintard.

“I have only a few moments,” said Helen. “I told Mr. Winston to call for me at four. We are going to find a place to walk where we shall not meet everybody we know——.” She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of Miss Starbruck’s gray, erect figure and shocked expression. “I beg your pardon, Miss Starbruck,” she said, sweetly; “I did not see you.”

“Why do you object to meeting people you know when you walk with young men?” demanded Miss Starbruck, severely.

Helen, by this time, had quite recovered her presence of mind. “Oh! they always want to stop and talk,” she said, lightly, “and that is such a bore.” Then she turned to Hermia: “I saw Grettan Quintard in your box last night. Did you ever hear such a name? As hard as a rock! But I imagine it suits him—although he felt pretty bad five years ago.”

“What about?” demanded Hermia.

“You never heard that story? But, to be sure, that was before your time. He was awfully in love with Mrs. Theodore Maitland—one of the prettiest women in town—and she with him. Everybody was talking, and finally Mr. Maitland found it out. He was very cool about it; he calmly went down town to a lawyer and told him to begin proceedings for a divorce. He sent for his things and took rooms at a hotel. Everybody cut Mrs. Maitland, and she felt so horrible that she killed herself. Quintard was fearfully upset. He went abroad at once and staid five years. This is his first reappearance.”

“A true nineteenth-century romance!” exclaimed Hermia, sarcastically. “An intrigue, a divorce court, and a suicide!” But she had listened with a feeling of dull jealousy, and the absurdity of it angered her. Her imagination had made a fool of her often enough; was she about to weakly yield herself to its whip again? What was Quintard or his past to her? “I rather liked his face,” she added, indifferently. “Did you know him before he went away?”

“Only by sight. I was not out. For the matter of that he went out very little himself until the Mrs. Maitland episode. He cared nothing for society, and only went into it to be with her. He wasn’t even very much of a club man, and had few intimates. I met him the other night at Mrs. Trennor-Secor’s dinner, and he took me in. I can’t say I care much for him; he’s too quiet. But he is awfully good-looking, and has great distinction. It is time,” she added, glancing at the clock, “for Mr. Winston to appear.”

“Are you engaged to that young man?” asked Miss Starbruck.

Helen stared. “Oh, no!” she said, with a little laugh; “he is only my first infant-in-waiting.”

The “infant” arrived as she spoke. He was a mild, blonde, inoffensive-looking youth, so faithful to his type that it was difficult to remember him by name until closer acquaintance had called out his little individualities. He had his importance and use, however; he knew how to get up and carry off a ball. He even attended to the paying of the bills when husbands were too busy or had moved to Greenwood. He had saved Hermia a great deal of trouble, and she rewarded him by taking him to the theater occasionally. He admired her in a distant, awe-struck way, much as a pug admires the moon; but he preferred Helen Simms.

“I am afraid you will find it rather cold for walking,” he said to Helen, with his nationally incorrect imitation of English drawl and accent. “It is quite beastly out, don’t you know?”

“Yes,” said Helen, “I know; but you will have to stand it. Good-bye, Hermia. A walk would not hurt you; you are looking pale.”

“Aren’t you going to let me sit down for a moment?” asked Winston.

“No, it is getting late; and, besides, Hermia doesn’t want you. Come.”

They went out, and Miss Starbruck remarked: “That is the average man of to-day, I suppose. They were different when I was young.”

“Oh, no; that is not the average man,” said Hermia; “that is only the average society man. They are two distinct species, I assure you.”

“Well, at all events, I prefer him to that dreadful Mr. Quintard. I hope he will not come to this house, Hermia.”

“Oh, I have invited him,” said Hermia, indifferently. “He shines beside some who come here, if you did but know it.”

“Then I am thankful I do not know it,” exclaimed Miss Starbruck. “I think I will go up-stairs and talk to Miss Newton.”

“No,” said Hermia, “stay and talk to me. I am bored! I hate to be alone! Sit down.”

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