Dartrey's forehead ridged with his old fury and a gust of present contempt. 'I can tell you this, that the fellow who would think harm of it, knowing the facts 's not worthy of touching the tips of the fingers of your girl.'
'She is talked of!'
'A good-looking girl out riding with a handsome woman on a parade of idlers!'
'The woman is notorious.' Nataly said it shivering.
He shook his head. 'Not true.'
'She has an air of a lady?'
'She sits a horse well.'
'Would she to any extent deceive me—impose on me here?'
'No.'
'Ah!' Nataly moaned. . . .