"Yes, jealous! The fact of the matter is, you're crazy about Alan
Farvel!" She was panting.
"And if—I am?" asked Sue.
"Oh!" It was a cry of fury. With a swift movement, Mrs. Milo passed Sue, pulled at the double door, and stood, bracing herself, as she almost shrieked down at Clare, kneeling before an open suitcase. "You've done this! You! You dragged my son down, and now you're coming between me and my daughter!"
Clare rose, throwing a garment aside.
"Mother! Mother!" Sue tried to draw her mother away.
Mrs. Milo retreated, but only to let Clare enter, followed by Farvel.
"Go back!" begged Sue. "Go back!—Mr. Farvel, take her!"
"Come, Laura! Come!"
But Clare would not go. "Yes, come—and let her wreak her meanness on Miss Milo! No! Here's a sample of what you're going to get, Alan, for insisting on my going to that Rectory. So you'd better hear it. I told you the plan is a mistake." And to Mrs. Milo, "Let's hear what you've got to say."
Righteous virtue glittered in the blue eyes. "I've got this to say!" she cried. "You've been missing ten years—ten years of running around loose. What've you been up to? Are you fit to be a friend of my daughter?"