He saw the fire in Kitty's eyes and noticed that Celia's face also was flushed, but he did not think their anger was directed against him. They knew the world they lived in, and, for that matter, he could share their indignation. He resented the fact that a little thing should bring swift suspicion upon them. He was, however, not required to face any disconcerting climax. Indeed, it struck him as curious that a difficult situation in which strong emotion was stirred up could become so tamely prosaic merely because it was resolutely handled in a matter-of-fact manner.
"Well," inquired Celia, "why did you tell us this?"
"I think you both owe Vane something, and you can do him a great favor just now."
Kitty looked up at him.
"Don't ask me too much, Mr. Carroll. I'm Irish, and I feel like killing somebody."
"It's natural," responded Carroll with a sympathetic smile. "I've now and then felt much the same way; it's probably unavoidable in a world like this. However, I think you ought to call on Miss Chisholm, after I've gone, though you'd better not mention that I sent you. You can say you came for news of Vane—and add anything that you consider necessary."
The girls looked at each other, and at length, though it obviously cost her a struggle, Kitty said decidedly:
"We will have to go."
Then she faced round toward Carroll.
"If Miss Chisholm won't believe us, she'll be sorry we came!"