tried to remember Mrs. Poppit's Christian name, and was even
prepared to use that, but this crowning ignominy was saved her, as she
could not recollect it.

"Such an annoying thing has happened," she said, though the words seemed
to blister her lips. "And you, dear Mrs. Poppit, as a woman of the
world, can advise me what to do. The fact is that somehow or other, and
I can't think how, people are saying that the duel last week, which was
so happily averted, had something to do with poor little me. So absurd!
But you know what gossips we have in our dear little Tilling."

Mrs. Poppit turned on her a fallen and disappointed face.

"But hadn't it?" she said. "Why, when they were all laughing about it
just now" ("I was right, then," thought Miss Mapp, "and what a tactless
woman!"), "I said I believed it. And I told Mr. Wyse."

Miss Mapp cursed herself for her frankness. But she could obliterate
that again, and not lose a rare (goodness knew how rare!) believer.

"I am in such a difficult position," she said. "I think I ought to let
it be understood that there is no truth whatever in such an idea,
however much truth there may be. And did dear Mr. Wyse believe--in fact,
I know he must have, for he wrote me, oh, such a delicate, understanding
note. He, at any rate, takes no notice of all that is being said and
hinted."

Miss Mapp was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely the
opposite of this. Dear Mr. Wyse _did_ take notice, most respectful
notice, of all that was being said and hinted, thank goodness! But a
glance at Mrs. Poppit's fat and interested face showed her that the
verbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed, and that the luscious flavour of
romance drowned the perception of anything else. She drew a handkerchief
out, and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment, rubbing them with a
stealthy motion, which Mrs. Poppit did not perceive, though Diva would
have.

"My lips are sealed," she continued, opening them very wide, "and I can
say nothing, except that I want this rumour to be contradicted. I
daresay those who started it thought it was true, but, true or false, I
must say nothing. I have always led a very quiet life in my little
house, with my sweet flowers for my companions, and if there is one
thing more than another that I dislike, it is that my private affairs
should be made matters of public interest. I do no harm to anybody, I
wish everybody well, and nothing--nothing will induce me to open my lips