“Nothing about me. I wouldn’t have worried you in the holidays, if—if it hadn’t been for your own sake...”
The red flowed into Cecil’s cheeks, her face hardened, the tone of her voice was icy cold.
“My sake? I don’t understand. I am not aware that you have any responsibility about my affairs!”
“Cecil, I have! I must have. We have lived together. I have loved you—”
Mary Rhodes waved aside the protestations with impatient scorn.
“Don’t be sentimental, please! You are not one of the girls. If it’s the money, and you are in a hurry to be repaid—”
“I’m not. I’m not! I don’t care if you never pay...” Tears of distress rose in Claire’s eyes, she caught her breath and cried in a choking sob. “Cecil, it’s about—him! I’ve found out something. I’ve seen him... Only last night...”
“I thought you might meet as his camp was so near. Suppose you did! What was so terribly alarming in that?”
“You haven’t heard? He hasn’t been to see you, or written, or wired, to-day?”
“He has not. Why should he? Don’t be hysterical, Claire. If you have anything to say, say it, and let me hear. What have you ‘found out’ about Major Carew?”