In the room marked “Private,” settled at her table, Miss Ram icily opened the interview. “I have heard from Mrs. Chater. I did not expect to see you again.”
Mary began: “I don't know what you have heard—”
Miss Ram stretched for a letter.
“Oh, I don't wish to,” Mary cried; put out a hand that stayed the action. “To hear all she says would again begin it all. It would be like her voice. It would be like being with her again. Please, please, Miss Ram, don't tell me.”
“You have your own version?”
“I have the truth.” Mary pointed at the letter-file. “The truth isn't there. Mrs. Chater isn't capable of the truth. She cannot even recognise the truth when she hears it.”
In yet more freezing tones Miss Ram replied: “She is an old and valued client.”
“You only know her in this office,” Mary told her. “You don't know her in her home.”
“I have suited her with other young ladies. I have heard of her from them.”
“And they have spoken well of her?”