—“Merle, why did you tell him about the trio, and—and all that rot?”
“Rot?”
“He thinks so. He probably thinks it—oh, girlish!”
“He’s going to count,” said Merle. “And ... Peter——”
“What?”
“Three is a funny shape,” the younger girl admitted slowly. “I think it might mean two and one. And I think, Peter, we shall have to settle, you and I, to be square with each other, in the triangle.”
“What a ghastly geometrical figure: If the square ABCD standing on the base of the triangle XYZ——”
But Merle was not laughing. “We must agree to talk things out, and always get them clear, even if it should mean disloyalty to Stuart. Because I believe he’s the strongest.”
Peter considered this a moment, while she emptied the cream-jug into her cup. “Yes,” she decided at length. “But we’ll tell him that you and I are going to keep the path unblocked between us. It will be fairer; and save him from blundering.”
“He won’t blunder,” Merle prophesied. “And I think, too, that he’s capable of calling a taxi.”