"No, I suppose not," said she vaguely, from the depths of her chair.
"You realise that then?" he went on evenly. "Well, you see, you rushed me before I had been able to decide what was best to do, and of course I got mad. I'm sorry, Poppy, I beg your pardon, I'm sure."
Poppy, dimly surprised at this unwonted penitence, would have murmured something, but he went on quickly:
"Had you any plan? How did you think of accounting to people—women particularly—for the fact that you were living here alone with me?"
"Accounting to them?" she echoed faintly. "Will they ask me?"
"Well, not exactly you, but they'll ask anyone who can tell them, and expect a satisfactory answer before they take you to their breasts."
"But, Luce, you could tell them, or let it be known. I shouldn't mind ... not how I first came to you, starving and ragged and beaten; I couldn't bear anyone knowing that ... but they could know how good you have been to me, bringing me up and educating me and being a guardian to me."
"And you think that would satisfy them?"
"I don't see why not. Of course, it is unconventional. But I believe it is not unheard of for a girl to have a guardian ... and guardians are not always old."
"That is so. Unfortunately, my dear girl, there is one thing you omit to take into consideration."