Myra turned upon her fiercely.
“Aunt,” she cried, “it is not true!”
“But it is true, my dear, or the wretch would have said a few words in his defence.”
“I cannot stay here and listen to you, aunt,” cried Myra, rising with dignity. “It is cruel of you to speak of Mr Stratton like this.”
“Oh, of course. Silly girl! The worse a man is, the more weak, infatuated woman defends him.”
“I defend him, aunt, because I am sure there must be some good reasons for Mr Stratton’s conduct. He was not the man who could have acted so. His whole career gives your charges the lie.”
At that moment Edie and Guest returned, the former joyous and bright, but forcing a serious look as soon as she saw her cousin’s agitated face.
“I am waiting for you, Edie,” said Myra coldly; and, turning to her aunt, she bent her head slightly. “Good-afternoon, Mr Guest,” she said, and she left the drawing room.
“Aunt, dear, what is the matter?” whispered Edie.
“We’ve been quarrelling, my dear; thank goodness!” said Miss Jerrold dryly. “There, good-bye. Run after her, little woman. Kiss me; I haven’t quarrelled with you.”