She gave him a warm smile. “Of course I’m not cross. I think it was nice of you,” she said, quite her everyday self again.
But perhaps it was because of what he had said that she ventured, a little later, to bring up another subject.
“Stacey,” she began, rather hesitantly, “I think what father has done in asking Catherine to stay at the house is splendid, and I’m truly glad about it. I love Catherine. But I thought perhaps you ought to know that some people are gossiping about it.”
“Are they?” he remarked. “We thought—father and I—that they probably would.”
Julie looked relieved. “Then that’s all right,” she observed. “It was only on Catherine’s account that I was disturbed.”
“Catherine would mind even less than we.”
Julie nodded. “And of course,” she went on, “they don’t dare say anything really nasty—only small catty things.” She paused for a moment, looking at her brother. “Do you know who it was that started such talk?” she added suddenly. “Marian Price.”
Stacey’s brows contracted. “Marian?” he repeated slowly. “What kind of things did Marian say?”
His sister’s face was hard. “Oh, that it was all a scheme of Catherine’s to catch you! And that you were so susceptible she’d undoubtedly succeed.”
Stacey experienced a sudden sick disgust, but the feeling vanished presently. “Poor Marian!” he said.