"Extremely impertinent of her. I hope you told her so."
"She is very good-natured," said Miss Marchrose remorsefully. "She has always gone out of her way to be nice to me, and when I began to be angry with her she only said, 'Oh, I'm so dreadfully sorry; I should never tell a soul except Douglas, you know, so you needn't mind my knowing about it.'"
At her faint mimicry of Iris' affected little pipe they both laughed.
"As a matter of fact, poor little thing, she only wanted me to contradict the version that she had heard. She said she couldn't and wouldn't believe it, and was sure that her—her informant had been mistaken."
Sir Julian wondered grimly whether Miss Marchrose was as little at a loss as himself to identify the informant in question. Her next words rather relieved him.
"She may very well have heard it from the girl she lives with. Curiously enough, she was once governess to Lady Mary Isbister's little girl, and it is quite probable that she heard something about it there. I don't know. There seem to be no end to the coincidences that accumulate round unpleasant things. It happened more than three years ago, and he's married now, and perfectly happy—why can't it be allowed to rest?"
"No one has any right to attempt to force your confidence."
"Miss Easter didn't do that, exactly. I think she thought I should be only too ready to explain away the story as it stood, and throw some light which would show that I hadn't just thrown over a man who cared for me on the grounds of his being condemned to the life of a paralytic invalid."
"I should find it very difficult to believe that you did that," said Sir Julian gently.
There was a pause.