"Your uncle thinks you do," Mrs. Jarrott said, leaning languidly back in an arm-chair. Her tone and manner implied that the matter had nothing to do with her, though she was willing to speak of it. This was as far as she could come to showing an interest in anything outside herself since the boys died. She would not have brought up the subject now if the girl's pallor during the last few days had not made them uneasy.
"I haven't the least idea," Miss Colfax declared. "I was just as much surprised as you were, Aunt Helen."
"Your uncle thinks you must have said something to him—"
"I didn't. I didn't say anything to him whatever. Why should I? He's nothing to me."
"Of course he's nothing to you, if you're engaged to Billy Merrow."
Miss Colfax leaned across the table, taking a longer time than necessary to give its value to a certain rose.
"I'm not engaged to him now," she said, as if after reflection—"not in my own mind, that is."
"But you are in his, I suppose."
"Well, I can't help that, can I?"
"Not unless you write and tell him it's all over."