"Well, but why do you wish me to pretend that I live here, and am your friend from Johannesburg?"
"You see, it's this way ... Brookie and Mr. Bramham take an interest in me.... They don't think that I ought to live alone here, and all that sort of rot—and if I could show you to them they'd think it was all right."
Miss Chard looked startled.
"Oh, I couldn't promise to meet strange men! I didn't suppose you would want me to do that or——"
An exasperated look came over Miss Cornell's face.
"You're not going to back out now, after me telling you everything?" she demanded angrily, but Miss Chard's scarlet lips took a firm line.
"I don't wish to meet strange people," she said. To her surprise, the other girl at once became propitiatory and beseeching.
"Well, but I won't ask you to meet anyone else. I'll keep you a deadly secret. And I can assure you that Brookie and Bramham don't matter in the least. Brookie is—well, to tell you the truth, he is entirely my property; he's crazily in love with me, and he won't bother you at all. Neither will Brammie, if it comes to that. He is an awfully nice man—everybody likes him, and he's fearfully rich too. He's married, and his wife lives in England for her health, they say, but of coarse that must be all rot. Anyway, he never goes into society at all—only has men friends."
"Well, what does he want here?" asked Miss Chard calmly, watching the flushed face before her.
"Nothing—nothing at all. It's only a matter of business, and a friendly interest in me, and all that—and, you see, as he employs me as well as Brookie, I have to be civil and ask him to tea sometimes."