Silence was all the answer.
"If you persist in your present attitude, remembering your dubious history, I have every right to take it for granted you went to meet an accomplice in crime--"
"Oh, rot!" Sally interjected impatiently.
And then, encouraged by consciousness of her audacity, she let her temper run away with her for an instant.
"All that's no good," she declared forcibly, "and you know it. If you mean to speak to Mrs. Gosnold about me in the morning, and have me sent away merely because I've had an unpleasant experience and refuse to discuss it with you--when it's none of your affair--why, I can't stop you. But I'm not a child, to be bullied and browbeaten, and I'm certainly not going to humour your curiosity about my private business. And that's flat. Now run and tell, if you really must--but you won't."
"Oh-indeed?" Mrs. Standish rose with vast dignity. "And why won't I, if you please?"
"Because you won't dare risk that insurance money, for one thing--"
"So you think you can blackmail--"
"Call it anything you like," Sally flashed defiantly. "Only bear in mind, I'm not going to submit tamely and be sent away in disgrace, like a kitchen-maid. I'll go, right enough--you don't need to worry about that--but I'll go on my own excuse. If you tell on me, I'll tell on you, and I'll tell everything I know, too."
"And what, please," the woman purred dangerously, "do you think you know--?"