There was no such person. I couldn't help saying it.
She is very handsome when she looks down, proud and a trifle sullen when you "touch her on the raw," as the men say.
"But there is such a person, Kitty," I ventured. I had ventured, it seemed, too far.
"You are my hostess. Your house is my only home. Don't be his accomplice!" I thought it rather well said.
Now that woman's clothes were hanging on the line (and very common-looking clothes they were), so she could not have been a casual guest. Moreover, she was pacing the hard ground in front of the house, and staring at us with a truculent yet uneasy air. Curiosity was strong, and a sort of anger possessed me against the place and everybody connected with it.
When Cecil came out, looking very hot and confused for him, who is always so fresh and gay, I inquired, rather shortly perhaps, "Who is your visitor?"
"I have no visitor," he answered me, as cool as you please. But there was a protest in his eye. I was determined not to spare him or any of the Harshaws.
"Your housekeeper, then?"
"I have no housekeeper."
"Who is the lady stopping at your house?"