‘I know we have been a little remiss, my dear, I hope Lady Merrifield was not offended.’
‘Mamma is never offended,’ said Gillian—‘but, I do think, and so would she and all of us, that if Constance comes, she ought to treat Dolores Mohun—as—as usual.’
The two sisters were silent, perhaps from sheer amazement at this outbreak of Gillian’s, who had never seemed particularly fond of her cousin. Gillian was quite as much surprised at herself, but something seemed to drive her on, with flaming cheeks. ‘Dolores is half broken-hearted about it all. She did not thoroughly know how wrong it was; and it does make her miserable that the one who went along with her in it should turn against her, and cut her and all.’
‘Connie never meant to keep it up, I’m sure,’ said Miss Hacket; ‘but she was very much hurt.’
‘So was Dolly,’ said Gillian.
‘Is she so fond of me?’ said Constance, in a softened tone.
‘She was,’ replied Gillian.
‘I’m sure,’ said Miss Hacket, ‘our only wish is to forget and forgive as Christians. Lady Merrifield has behaved most handsomely, and it is our most earnest wish that this unfortunate transaction should be forgotten.’
‘And I’m sure I’m willing to overlook it all,’ said Constance. ‘One must have scrapes, you know; but friendship will triumph over all.’
Gillian did not exactly wish to unravel this fine sentiment, and was glad that the little G.F.S. maid came in with the tea.