Falchion did not mention my name, nor did she ever in
their acquaintance, save in the most casual fashion. Her conversation
with Miss Treherne was always far from petty gossip or that smart comedy
in which some women tell much personal history, with the guise of
badinage and bright cynicism. I confess, though, it struck me
unpleasantly at the time, that this fresh, high-hearted creature should
be in familiar conversation with a woman who, it seemed to me, was the
incarnation of cruelty.
Mrs. Falchion subscribed most liberally to the fund raised for the
children of the quartermaster and munificently to that for the crew which
had, under Hungerford, performed the rescue work. The only effect of this
was to deepen the belief that she was very wealthy, and could spend her
money without affectation; for it was noticeable that she, of all on
board, showed the least outward excitement at the time of the disaster.
It occurred to me that once or twice I had seen her eyes fixed on
Hungerford inquisitively, and not free from antipathy. It was something
behind her usual equanimity. Her intuitive observation had led her to
trace his hand in recent events.
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