“Stories about me?”
He wouldn’t reply, and only glowered at his horse’s ears.
“What story have you heard about me, Coley?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, nothing,” he mumbled. “It wasn’t about you,” he finished lamely.
“It’s something that concerns me then. You’ve made that clear. You must tell me—at once,” she said decisively.
Van Duyn glanced at her and dropped his gaze, aware for the second time that this girl’s spirit when it rose was too strong for him. And yet there was an anxiety in her curiosity, too, which gave him a sense of mastery.
“Oh, just gossip,” he said cautiously. “Everybody gets his share of it, you know.” Then he laughed aloud, rather too noisily, so that she wasn’t deceived.
“It’s something I have a right to know, of course. It must be unpleasant or you wouldn’t have thought of it again. You must tell me, Coley.”
“What difference does it make?”
“None. But I mean to hear it just the same.”