Colwood, who had been putting
away some embroidery silks which had been left on the table by Diana,
turned in some astonishment. She found the girl's eyes fixed upon
her--eager and hungry.
"Miss Mallory has had a great many visitors"--she tried to pitch her
words in the lightest possible tone--"I am afraid it will take her a
long time to return all her calls."
"Well, I'm glad it's all right about that!--anyway. As mamma said, you
never know. People are so queer about these things, aren't they? As if
it was Diana's fault!"
Through all her wrath, Muriel Colwood was conscious of a sudden pang of
alarm--which was, in truth, the reawakening of something already vaguely
felt or surmised. She looked rather sternly at her companion.
"I really don't know what you mean, Miss Merton. And I never discuss
Miss Mallory's affairs. Perhaps you will kindly allow me to go to
my letters."
She was moving away when the girl beside her laughed again--rather
angrily--and Mrs. Colwood paused, touched again by instinctive fear.
"Oh, of course if I'm not to say a word about it--I'm not--that's all!
Well, now, look here--Diana needn't suppose that I've come all this way
just for fun.
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