Then Dora turned upon her suddenly.
“What do you mean, Aunt Anna?” she asked with determination.
“Oh, nothing, dear, nothing. Don't get flurried about it.”
“I am not at all flurried,” replied Dora quietly. “You said that you would be sorry to have to believe what gossips said of me last year at the time of Jem's death—”
“Dora,” interrupted Mrs. Agar, “I never said anything against you in any way; how can you say such a thing?”
“And,” continued Dora, with an unpleasant calmness of manner, “I must ask you to explain. What did the gossips say, and why should you be sorry to have to believe it?”
Mrs. Agar's reluctance was not quite genuine nor was it well enough simulated to deceive Dora.
“Well, dear,” she said, “if you insist, they said that there had been something between you and Jem—long, long ago, of course, before he went out to India.”
Dora shrugged her shoulders.
“They are welcome to say what they like.”