“But they wouldn't mind you—here,” argued Billy.
“I'm afraid they would. In fact, I'm sure they'd refuse entirely to see me.”
Billy's eyes grew determined.
“But they can't refuse—if I bring about a meeting just casually, you know,” she challenged.
Arkwright laughed.
“Well, I won't pretend to say as to the consequences of that,” he rejoined, rising to his feet; “but they might be disastrous. Wasn't it you yourself who were telling me a few minutes ago how steely cold Miss Alice's eyes got when she was angry?”
Billy knew by the way the man spoke that, for some reason, he did not wish to prolong the subject of his meeting the Greggorys. She made a quick shift, therefore, to another phase of the matter.
“But tell me, please, before you go, how did those rumors come out—about Judge Greggory's honesty, I mean?”
“Why, I never knew, exactly,” frowned Arkwright, musingly. “Yet it seems, too, that mother did say in one letter, while I was in Paris, that some of the accusations had been found to be false, and that there was a prospect that the Judge's good name might be saved, after all.”
“Oh, I wish it might,” sighed Billy. “Think what it would mean to those women!”