"But Miss Chisholm can't mean to turn from him now," interrupted Celia.
Carroll looked at her meaningly.
"No; she turned from him before he sailed. She heard something about him."
His companions appeared astonished.
"She couldn't have heard anything that anybody could mind," Kitty exclaimed indignantly. "He's not that kind of man."
"It's a compliment," returned Carroll. "I think he deserves it. At the same time, he's a little rash, and now and then a man's generosity is open to misconception. In this case, I don't think one could altogether blame Miss Chisholm."
Kitty glanced at him sharply and then at Celia, who looked at first puzzled and then startled. Then the blood surged into Kitty's cheeks.
"Oh!" she gasped, as if she were breathless, "I was once afraid of something like this. You mean we're the cause of it?"
The course he followed was hateful to Carroll, but the tangle could not be straightened without having somebody's feelings hurt, and it was his comrade about whom he was most concerned.
"I believe that you understand the situation," he said quietly.