Only a few close friends had understood why Doris’s uncle had gone away without marrying either of the twins, for by turns he had appeared in love with each of them. Some people had jokingly remarked that he could not tell them apart and that this was his reason for giving them up. At any rate, he had never been able to choose between them and had gone away, leaving heart-breaks behind. For Azalea and Iris the locked gates at the front entrance to the mansion were symbolic of a past which could never be forgotten.
With the passing of the years, the Misses Gates clung tightly to their memories, and the appearance of John Trent’s son had only served to freshen them. Perhaps in Ronald Trent they saw their lover of old. At any rate, they doted upon him and were flattered by his extravagant compliments. Believing that he was indeed the son of John Trent, they could not see his cheapness or his crude devices for gaining their favor. They regarded him indulgently, as a mother might her son.
Shut away from the world by their own wishes, Azalea and Iris lived only for their dreams. Wickedness was to them nebulous and unreal. They had trusted Ronald Trent because it was in their nature to trust.
As Doris stole quietly up the stairway with Wags snuggled in her arms, her thoughts were bitter. What right had Ronald Trent to ingratiate himself with Azalea and Iris, only to trick them? Obviously, his motive was money.
“He won’t get away with anything if I can help it!” she told herself.
As if to punctuate the thought, she unthinkingly gave Wags a tiny squeeze. He promptly yelped. Alarmed, Doris stopped and listened, but she could hear no one moving in the house. Quieting Wags, she continued up the stairs and down the long dark hall to her bedroom.
Letting herself in, she dropped Wags on the bed with a sigh of relief.
“I thought you never were coming,” Kitty whispered. “What in the world made you take so long?”
“Lots of things,” Doris told her impressively.
“I was scared to death here by myself.”