he spoke of Mr.
Hungerford and his ways and his intimacy with the family, particularly
Gertrude. For weeks the captain had been wanting to talk to someone
about these things and, now that he had that opportunity, he made the
most of it. He spoke of his own loneliness, and of Serena's infatuation
for society, of Gertrude's coming and the great change in her, of the
gay life in Scarford, and of his daughter's apparent love for it. He
gave his opinion of Hungerford and of Holway, the latter's friend. When
John asked questions which implied a belief that the situation was not
really as bad as the narrator thought it, Captain Dan, growing warmer
and more anxious to justify himself, proceeded to make his statements
stronger. He quoted instances to prove their truth. Serena was crazy on
the subjects of Chapter and Chapter politics and fashion and money and
society, and Gertrude was getting to be even worse. It wasn't any use to
talk to her. He had tried. He had told her she was engaged and ought to
be more careful. He wasn't the only one who thought so. Barney Black had
said the same thing. He quoted from Mr. Black's conversation.

John Doane listened, at first with the smile of the disbeliever, then
with more and more uneasiness. He trusted Gertrude, he believed in
her, she was not a flirt, but if these stories were true--if they were
true--he could not understand. He asked more questions and the answers
were as non-understandable. Altogether, Captain Dan, with the best
intentions in the world, and with the happiness of his daughter and John
uppermost in his mind, succeeded in laying a mine which might wreck that
happiness altogether.

At last something--perhaps the expression on his visitor's face--caused
him to feel that he might have said too much. He hastened to rectify the
mistake.

"Of course you mustn't think Gertie ain't all right, far's you're
concerned, John," he said. "She is--I--I'm dead sure she is. But, you
see--you see--You do see, don't you, John?"

Mr. Doane did not answer. He seemed to be thinking hard.

"You see, John, don't you?" repeated Captain Dan.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"And you know Gertie's all right--at heart, I mean? You mustn't be
jealous, nor anything of that kind."

John laughed. "Don't talk nonsense," he said curtly.

"No, I won't. But--er--what are you thinkin' about?"

"Nothing. Humph! I can't understand--"

"Neither could I. That's why I wrote you. You see why I wrote you, don