"I am glad of this chance to speak with you alone, for I want to
explain to you about him."

She stopped with an embarrassed flush. I gazed at her in amazement.
Lillian Underwood flustered! I could not believe my eyes.

"You are not used to us or our ways, or I shouldn't bother to tell you
this. But I can see that you are much annoyed at Harry, and I don't
blame you. But you mustn't mind him. He is really harmless. He falls
in love with every new face he sees, has a violent attack, then gets
over it just as quickly. You are an entirely new type to him, so I
suppose his attack this time will be a little more prolonged. He'll
make violent love to you behind my back or before my face, but you
mustn't mind him. I understand, and I'll straighten him out when he
gets too annoying."

The embarrassed flush had disappeared by this time. She was talking
in as cool and matter-of-fact manner as if she had been discussing the
defection of a cook.

My first emotion was resentment against my husband.

Why, I asked myself passionately, had Dicky insisted upon my
friendship with these people? Suppose they were his most intimate
friends? I was his wife, and I had nothing whatever in common with
them. Knowing them as well as he did, he must have known Harry
Underwood's propensities. He must also have known the gossip that
connected his own name with Lillian's. He should have guarded me from
any contact with them. I felt my anger fuse to a white heat against
both my husband and Lillian.