"So now he nurses his failing strength under your Mother's eye?"
"She gives him rum and milk and warm Winter socks!—which by the way I was once asked to darn. I did strike at that! I don't mind mending Roddy's, but Stephen's?—No thanks!"
Her clear young laugh rang out as she caught McTaggart's eye.
"He's a somewhat spoilt young man, from all accounts. D'you think..." he paused a moment, then risked the question ... "d'you think your Mother's really ... a bit ... fond of him?"
"No." Her tone was definite—"not ... like that." A faint colour stole up into her childish face, but loyally she went on, resenting the imputation. "Mother never flirts, you know. She hates that sort of thing. She's awfully down on other people too. That Mrs. Molineux, d'you remember the gossip? Mother cuts her now whenever they meet."
McTaggart looked amused.
"Funny, isn't it? Because, I suppose people ... talk! It's not everyone who'd understand Stephen."
"Don't!" The girl's hand slipped from his arm. Then at his quick:
"Oh—I don't mean that!—Of course I know your mother—she's one of the best—I didn't mean anything—don't be vexed, Jill. It's only that outsiders might be rather dense"—her face relaxed and she turned impulsively, gratitude shining in the gray eyes.
"That's just what hurts most—to have her misjudged. When one knows ... it's Mother!—that she couldn't stoop..." The hot blood surged up into her face. "To think that people can say nasty, mean things—that she gives them the chance! It makes me wild. And Mother all the time doesn't see it a bit. She thinks because it's her" (vehemence ousted grammar) "that everyone must know it's bound to be all right. And she goes to all sorts of places, lecturing, you know, and takes Stephen with her and stays away for days. Only yesterday"—her words poured on—"Aunt Elizabeth came to tea and the first thing she said was: 'I hear you were at Folkestone, staying at the Grand?—and Mr. Somerville?' And Mother answered calmly: 'Yes—I took Stephen. He's such a help, you know. I couldn't do without him.' And Aunt Elizabeth gave such a nasty little laugh and said—'Really, Mary, I think I must get a Stephen!'