“Are you sure they are not speaking of you or me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered; “perhaps.”
They protested.
“Do you know the girl, Ruth?” I asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well,” I said, “please bring her to the next meeting. She interests me.”
Ruth promised, despite the protestations and explanations of Marian and Virginia. “You would know, then, of whom we had been talking,” they said.
“Very well,” I answered, “she shall stay away on one condition.”
“What is that?”
“That you don’t mention her again. I always feel,” I went on, “that when any one is badly spoken of, I am being criticized behind my back. Just as when a race, such as the negroes, for instance, is unjustly spoken of, I feel like fighting for my rights; for I take it as a mere matter of chance that I didn’t happen to be one of them.