"Yes--but do you think everybody'll understand that?" said Carlisle,
hurriedly, and rather felt that the worst was over. "That's just it,
mamma,--don't you see? How do we know what sort of gossip is being
bandied about downstairs now? You know people _always_ put the worst
possible construction they can on a--an episode like this!..."

Her mother wheeled on her, struck afresh in her dearest possession,
namely: her pride in the prestige of the name of Heth in an envious and
backbiting world.

"How do you mean, construction? What construction could they possibly--"

"Why, anything, mamma!--anything their horrid minds can think of. That
I'm a great friend of this charming man's, for instance,--engaged to
him, perhaps! That this exhibition in the boat was only a refined little
lovers' quarrel--"

"How under heaven could any fool say--"

"Well, you _know_ they'll wonder why he got into the boat in the first
place, and say the hatefullest thing they can think of ... There are
plenty of people who would like to see us h-humiliated."

Mrs. Heth, staring at her with an intake of the breath, then said
slowly: "_Ah--h_!" And she took in a whole range of new possibilities
with one leap of her immensely constructive mind.

"It isn't fair," said Carlisle, nervously, slipping into a pretty pink
negligee. "And you know how a gossipy story flies, growing all
the time--"