She demands an explanation as soon as
the communicating doors close.]
COMTESSE. Tell me since when has my dear Sybil become one of these
ladies? It is not like her.
[MAGGIE is obviously not clever enough to understand the woman
question. Her eye rests longingly on a half-finished stocking as she
innocently but densely replies:]
MAGGIE. I think it was about the time that my husband took up their
cause.
[The COMTESSE has been hearing tales of LADY SYBIL and the barbarian;
and after having the grace to hesitate, she speaks with the
directness for which she is famed in Mayfair.]
COMTESSE. Mrs. Shand, excuse me for saying that if half of what I
hear be true, your husband is seeing that lady a great deal too
often. [MAGGIE is expressionless; she reaches for her stocking,
whereat her guest loses patience.] Oh, mon Dieu, put that down; you
can buy them at two francs the pair. Mrs. Shand, why do not you
compel yourself to take an intelligent interest in your husband's
work?
MAGGIE. I typewrite his speeches.
COMTESSE. But do you know what they are about?
MAGGIE. They are about various subjects.
COMTESSE. Oh!
[Did MAGGIE give her an unseen quizzical glance before demurely
resuming the knitting? One is not certain, as JOHN has come in, and
this obliterates her. A 'Scotsman on the make,' of whom DAVID has
spoken reverently, is still to be read--in a somewhat better bound
volume--in JOHN SHAND's person; but it is as doggedly honest a face
as ever; and he champions women, not for personal ends, but because
his blessed days of poverty gave him a light upon their needs.
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