“I don’t know whether you know that just at present you’re talking about a very precious and beautiful friendship!” said Amory proudly.
“Yes, I do know—I mean I suppose so—you really are such chums, I know——”
“And I hope and trust the day’s coming when such a thing can be without nasty prurient minds ‘drawing their own conclusions,’ as you call it, Dorothy!... Perhaps,” the golden eyes were sidelong now on Dorothy’s, “perhaps there was some particular—compromising situation—your friend objected to? Or was it merely the whole scandalous relation?”
Suddenly Dorothy, for her part also, did not much like the tone of this. She felt as if that sandwich might still have left crumbs upon her mouth. There might be a good many things to be said about her cousin Stanhope, but at any rate he did not compromise her on principle, nor did he discuss with her some of the rather astonishing subjects that seemed to come into this precious and beautiful friendship of Amory Towers and Cosimo Pratt. She would bow to Amory’s superior knowledge when it came to matters of art, but she wasn’t going to have even Amory’s foot on her neck if Stan was to be dragged into the dispute. And if Dorothy again skipped a step in the chain of processes, she thought she had reason.
“I suppose that’s because you caught me out a few minutes ago?” she said, rather challengingly.
“I’m not sure that I quite follow you. I’m sorry if I’m dull.”
“Very well, if you want it more plainly, you said ‘compromising situation’ because you caught us just now. I’ve always stood up for you, Amory, but I’m not going to let you talk like that.”
“Sorry,” said Amory offhandedly.
“Well, you needn’t say so in that tone either; we don’t expect everybody to go about whistling, or knocking at doors and then waiting, like that charwoman and her daughter. I’m sorry if we shocked you.”
“I don’t think I mentioned—what you seem to be talking about, Dorothy. If I did I don’t remember.”