"I've come to ask you something, Miss Causton, and you've got to tell me," she announced, without preface. "I've a right to know."
"Speak a little lower," said Louie, glancing at the babe. "Sit down and tell me what it is."
But Kitty would not sit. Incapable of grandeurs of style, she nevertheless attempted them.
"I don't know whether you happen to be aware what people are saying about you," she said. Her boat-shaped hat and Inverness cape gave her a little the appearance of a scanty tree with which some topiary artist had done his best.
Louie could not help smiling a little; she could have that kind of thing out with herself without calling in Kitty.
"My dear! Of course I know they might be saying anything!" She drew her child a little closer to her.
"Suppose we keep the my dears till we've finished talking," said Kitty coldly. "I mean what they're saying at the Business School."
Louie spoke quietly. "I suppose you mean about me and my boy?"
"Yes, I do mean that, and I've come to ask you to your face; I'm not the one to beat about the bush! I want to know who——" There was no need for Kitty to complete the sentence.
"You won't know that," said Louie, more quietly still.