'You needn't be so fierce, Lesley!' interrupted Grace, with a little hard laugh, 'though you don't think him half bad. For many reasons! No--he wouldn't help--us--in a thing like that--not he!'
'That isn't fair,' cried Lesley in a flame. 'If you knew----' She paused, but was too late.
'If I knew what?' asked Lady Arbuthnot, rising and coming to the window; then standing before the girl, to say, after a pause: 'You will have to tell me, you know, Lesley; you have started me, and I'm not a fool. And of course I know--Jerry told me--that Mr. Raymond had come to cycle with you that evening--that that was why you were so late; but I said nothing, because I thought it was only----'
'I don't care what you thought,' interrupted Lesley angrily; 'and I won't tell you anything unless you promise not to speak----'
'I will promise not to tell any one who ought not to know that I know,' put in Grace Arbuthnot proudly. 'I won't promise more----'
'And who wants more?' cried the girl hotly. 'Of course, if people ought to know, they must know. That is the only reason why I'm telling you. I didn't mean to, but if you can be so--so unjust, it is only right that you should know the truth.'
'I can judge of that for myself when you have told me, so you needn't waste time,' retorted Grace.
A sudden antagonism had sprung up between the two women of which they were both aware, of which they were both vaguely ashamed, but which they could not ignore.
'Thank you!' said Grace, with chill dignity when the recital was over. 'You were right to tell me. I will apologise to Mr. Raymond.'
'To Mr. Raymond!' echoed Lesley, carried beyond her resentment by eagerness. 'No! Lady Arbuthnot--not to him. He is not one of the people who ought to know that you know!'