“I—I—” I began. Then desperately: “I scarcely know what to say, Miss Morley,” I faltered. “I came here, as I told you, expecting to find a—a—”
“What, pray?” with a haughty lift of the dark eyebrows. “What did you expect to find, may I ask?”
“Nothing—that is, I—Well, never mind that. I came on the spur of the moment, immediately after receiving your letter. I have had no time to think, to consult my—your aunt—”
“What has my—AUNT” with withering emphasis, “to do with it? Why should you consult her?”
“Well, she is your mother's nearest relative, I suppose. She is Captain Cahoon's daughter and at least as much interested as I. I must consult her, of course. But, frankly, Miss Morley, I think I ought to tell you that you are under a misapprehension. There are matters which you don't understand.”
“I understand everything. I understand only too well. What do you mean by a misapprehension? Do you mean—do you dare to insinuate that my father did not tell me the truth?”
“Oh, no, no,” I interrupted. That was exactly what I did mean, but I was not going to let the shade of the departed Strickland appear again until I was out of that room and house. “I am not insinuating anything.”
“I am very glad to hear it. I wish you to know that I perfectly understand EVERYTHING.”
That seemed to settle it; at any rate it settled me for the time. I took up my hat.
“Miss Morley,” I said, “I can't discuss this matter further just now. I must consult my cousin first. She and I will call upon you to-morrow at any hour you may name.”