“Who do you mean?” the question shot from her.
“Janet Fordyce; and do you know,” lowering his voice confidentially, “Christmas Eve I got rather fuddled and was such a fool as to warn Barnard not to marry into that family.”
“Were you thanked for your pains?” and the sneer in her downcast eyes was not pleasant.
“Hardly; in fact, Barnard threatened to wring my neck if I ever alluded to the Fordyce peculiarities in public.”
“Tell me some other time,” she coaxed. “I think, however, that Mr. Barnard is to be congratulated if he marries any woman but Marjorie Langdon.”
“I rather like Marjorie.”
“Do you?” she laughed mirthlessly. “Well, I hate her.” There was no mistaking her envenomed tone, and Joe’s sleepy eyes opened to twice their usual size.
“Why?” in profound astonishment.
“Because of the humiliation I have suffered at her hands; she never lost an opportunity ‘to put me in my place’ when we were both at the Lawrences’, she as secretary and I as nurse.”
“You surprise me; but come to think of it, Pauline holds about the same view of Miss Langdon that you do; thinks she’s too supercilious for a paid companion.”