Elizabeth’s colour rose.
“Molly, my dear, do you think it is your business?” she said.
“Yes, I do,” said Mary. “I suppose you won’t pretend you’re not my own sister. And I think you must be quite mad, Liz. I do, indeed. You ought to tell David at once—at once. I can’t imagine what Edward would have said if he had not known at once. You ought to go straight home and tell him now. Married people ought to be one. They ought never to have secrets.”
Mary poured the whole thing out to Edward the same evening.
“I really don’t know what has happened to Elizabeth,” she said. “She is quite changed. I can’t understand her at all. I think it is quite wicked of her. If she doesn’t tell David soon, some one else ought to tell him.”
Edward moved uneasily in his chair.
“People don’t like being interfered with,” he said.
“Well, I’m sure nobody could call me an interfering person,” said Mary. “It isn’t interfering to be fond of people. If I weren’t fond of Liz, I shouldn’t care how strangely she behaved. I do think it’s very strange of her—and I don’t care what you say, Edward. I think David ought to be told. How would you have liked it if I’d hidden things from you?”
Edward rumpled up his hair.
“People don’t like being interfered with,” he said again.