"I am afraid you have been a little indiscreet. People have been
talking."
"Then theirs, not mine, is the indiscretion."
"But, my dear Marcus, when you spring a good-looking young
person, whom you introduce as your Mohammedan ward, upon London
society, and she makes a scene in public--why--what else have
people got to talk about?"
"They might fall back upon the doctrine of predestination or the
price of fish," I replied urbanely.
"But I assure you, Marcus, that there is a hint of scandal
abroad. It is actually said that she is living here."
"People will say anything, true or untrue," said I.
My aunt sighfully acquiesced, and for a while we discussed the
depravity of human nature.
"I have been thinking," she said at last, "that if you brought
your ward to see us, and she could accompany us on this cruise to
Norway, the scandal would be scotched outright."
She glanced at me very keenly, and beneath her indulgent smile I
saw the hardness of the old campaigner. It was a clever trap she
had prepared for me.
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