Patricia's heart stopped beating for an instant.
"All sorts of girls?" she cried. "What d'you mean?"
Amy looked at her sharply, her face transformed, almost venomous. "Well, little Jean Cowley went away with him. It was all over in a month. They hardly notice each other now. She's through it. He's been the lover of half-a-dozen girls I know——"
"I don't believe you!" cried Patricia, perfectly white with anger.
Amy looked back with a superciliousness as great as her own.
"Jean Cowley told me all about it herself. I'm not a liar. Penelope Gorran ... Phyllis Mickle...."
"Amy!"
"I know what I'm talking about."
"Not whom you're talking to, though!" cried Patricia.