"He has delayed long," said the old maid with a bitter smile. "My sister has enjoyed the good things of this life. She has had money, position, praise, and all that a woman desires. As for myself--" She looked round the room and burst into a bitter laugh. "Yet Jenny Howard was always considered the prettier sister of the two."
"Then it really was Mrs. Ward who left the ball."
"It was. She lays the blame on my shoulders--" Miss Bull paused, and her mouth worked nervously. "Does she accuse me of the crime?"
"No. She says that you left Mr. Vane at the gate of the hotel."
"Oh," muttered Miss Bull, "Percy came as far as that with her, did he? And she said he left her at the door of the room where the ball was being held. Liar! Liar! She always was. She always will be. Can the leopard change his spots?"
By this time the ice in Miss Bull's nature had melted under the heat of her indignation. She walked hurriedly up and down the room, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. George was pleased to see this, as he thought she was the more likely to tell the truth when thus moved by emotion than if she had remained calm. Miss Bull was so angered by the memory of her wrongs that she struck her hand against the mantelpiece so as to inflict pain. The shock seemed to nerve her, for she drew a long breath and returned to her seat. With her eyes fixed, on George she began abruptly.
"Violet has told her story," she said, "now I will tell you mine. I want to know, however, exactly what she said, in the exact words if you can remember them."
"I did not hear her speak," confessed George; "it was my grandfather and Mr. Ireland to whom she told the story."
"Story! Fable! Lie! Romance!" said Miss Bull, vehemently. "Well, tell me what you can remember!"
This George did as concisely as possible, for he feared lest Margery should interrupt the interview. Miss Bull listened with a downcast face and pursed-up lips. Not a word did she say, but when George ended she looked up with a bitter smile.