"Can't yer look me straight in the face? I can't answer proper-like if yer won't."
Evarne's mind was far too entirely taken up with deeper thoughts, with future schemes, for her to be really overweighed with embarrassment before Philia. Without any effort she raised her head instantly. The necessity of an upturned face for an answer was then made clear. The old woman bent forward and kissed her straight on the lips—a noisy, unabashed kiss.
"I might think badly of some gals, Evarne, but you—why, no matter who was to tell me yer was a bad lot, I'd say 'Beggin' yer pardin', I knows 'er too well! She's real good!'"
Evarne threw her arms impulsively around her old friend's neck, and murmured her thanks.
"But listen," she continued, settling herself down again upon the footstool. "What I've told you is only the cause of my present trouble."
But almost in the same instant Philia had exclaimed—
"My gosh, what about Mr. Danvers?"
"That's it—that's it! I haven't told him, and I never mean to, never, never!"
"And yer'd be a regular fool if yer did," declared this worldly-minded counsellor.
"But—oh, it's too dreadful; it's too horrid!"