“I suppose I am,” she answered, “though I’m sure I can’t tell how it should be so, unless worry of all kinds is good for good looks. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”
“Now, Dora.”
“Oh, it’s the solid truth—partly your fault too.”
“I never interfered——”
“Of course you didn’t, but you ought to have interfered. When you called on me in London you might have seen that I was not happy; and I wanted to come to Rawdon Court, and you would not invite me. I called your behavior then ‘very mean,’ and I have not altered my opinion of it.”
“There were good reasons, Dora, why I could not ask you.”
“Good reasons are usually selfish ones, Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me what they were.
“He likely told you untruths, Dora, for he knew nothing about my reasons. I saw very little of him.”
“I know. You treated him as badly as you treated me, and all for some wild West creature—a regular cowboy, Fred said, but then a Rawdon!”
“Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon—that is all about it. I shall not explain ‘how’ or ‘why.’ Did you enjoy yourself at Stanhope Castle?”