"Nan," Julian went on, already with the proprietary air, "is under the most complete illusion about the von Schwarzenberg." Something watchful came into the face he showed to the moonlight—almost suspicious, totally un-Julianesque. "I thought the reason Nan was going away so meekly to London was that she was dependent on von Schwarzenberg."
Napier said that he, too, had received the impression that Miss Greta was financing her "little friend."
Madge certainly thought so. But Madge has a way of getting to the bottom of things.
She had done it when she came over to say good night to Julian and Nan.
"Miss Greta was very kind to you at school, wasn't she?"
"Very, very kind."
"And she gives you your holidays? Pays your expenses?"
Miss Ellis stared. "Expenses!"—and then broke into a little laugh. "Why, no. You are a funny girl."
Madge threw back her hair. She didn't relish being called a funny girl. She ached to bring this interloper down off her high horse. "Was it a very expensive school Miss von Schwarzenberg sent you to?"
"Sent me—to school? Oh, you haven't understood her. I had my mother to send me. And she sent Greta, too. Mother used to say,"—Miss Ellis was still talking more to Mr. Grant than to the girl—"she considered it a very great privilege to put opportunities in the way of a person like Greta."