"Jealous little cat!" the grim old Scotchwoman said to herself, "selfish isn't the name for her; she's like an Angora when it's got all the cream."
Meanwhile Rachel made her way to young Mrs. Astry's room. She entered the boudoir, which opened on the balcony outside her own window, and she shuddered involuntarily at the thought of last night. Eva had come up from tennis and had just been dressed for luncheon, and the French maid courtesied and left the room as her sister entered.
Rachel came in gravely and closed the door. "Eva, you must dismiss Zélie."
Eva looked up with a violent start, her pretty face wet with tears. "Why?" she exclaimed, and there was a thrill of terror in her voice.
Rachel did not notice it; she told her quite simply all that Bantry had said. "She mustn't stay a day longer in this house, Eva. Dismiss her with a month's wages in lieu of notice. I'm sure she doesn't deserve it, but I'd do that."
Eva trembled; she knew that Rachel was inexorable and she knew also that she was in Zélie's power. She could not tell Rachel the whole truth, she could not refuse to dismiss Zélie, and she dared not resist her sister, so she temporized.
"Wouldn't it be better to keep her a while? If we dismiss her, she'll talk more—"
"Of what? If you keep her, you practically admit that you're afraid of her, the servants will believe her, and the end will be a scandal. Eva, you must dismiss her; I insist upon it."
"I—I can't!"
"You can't? Why?" Rachel's face flushed deeply.