"Ah! perhaps you won't tell me because you daren't?"
"I've not told anybody, and I'm not going to tell you. I'd die first. Perhaps before we go any further you'll tell me why you want to know?"
"You don't suppose I'd ask you if it wasn't my business, do you?"
Slowly Louie turned her eyes on her. She spoke slowly too. "We should get on more quickly if you didn't jump so to conclusions," she said. "I don't know what your conclusions are, but you seem to have made your mind up about something. If you'll change your tone I'll talk to you; if you won't, I won't."
At that Kitty began to sob. She had to lift her veil in order to put a wisp of wet handkerchief to her eyes. But she changed her tone.
"I only want to know," she said. "And I don't want to know if it isn't my business. But I have seen him look at you, and he did dance with you, and when they said——"
"Who said?" Louie interrupted; but she had already made a guess. "And said what?"
"Jeff, of course," Kitty replied. "Miriam Levey noticed him looking at you first, but after that I saw for myself. And you did dance with him. I might forgive him, but I'd never, never forgive you."
Louie suddenly put a question. Apparently it was for nothing less preposterous than that question that Kitty was here.
"One moment," she said. "Do you mean there's something about Mr. Jeffries and myself you want to know?"