THE TWO FACES
Banker, "yet everyone is already wondering. Gwyther has thrown his wife on her mercy—but I won't believe you if you pretend to me you don't know why he shouldn't."
Sutton asked himself then what he could pretend. "Do you mean because she's merciless?"
She hesitated. "If you don't know, perhaps I oughtn't to tell you."
He liked Miss Banker, and found just the right tone to plead. "Do tell me."
"Well," she sighed, "it will be your own fault———! They had been such friends that there could have been but one name for the crudity of his original procédé. When I was a girl we used to call it throwing over. They call it in French to lâcher. But I refer not so much to the act itself as to the manner of it, though you may say indeed, of course, that there is in such cases, after all, only one manner. Least said, soonest mended."
Sutton seemed to wonder. "Oh, he said too much?"
"He said nothing. That was it."
Sutton kept it up. "But was what?"
"Why, what she must, like any woman in her shoes, have felt to be his perfidy. He simply went and did it—took to himself this child, that is, without the preliminary of a scandal or a rupture—before she could turn round."
"I follow you. But it would appear from what you say that she has turned round now."
"Well," Miss Banker laughed, "we shall see for ourselves how far. It will be what everyone will try to see."
"Oh, then we've work cut out!" And Sutton certainly felt that he himself had—an impression that lost nothing from a further talk with Miss Banker in the course of a short stroll in the grounds with her the
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