"Don't speak of him or of me in that manner," said Athalie, flushing scarlet.
"Why are you so particular? It's the truth. He's given you about everything a man can offer a girl, hasn't he?—jewellery, furniture, clothing—cats—"
"Will you please not say anything more!"
But Doris was still smarting under recent admonition, and she meant to make an end of Athalie's daily interference: "I will say what I like when it's the truth," she retorted. "You are very free with your unsolicited advice. And I'll say this, and it's true, that not one girl in a thousand who accepts what you have accepted from Clive Bailey, is straight!"
Athalie's tightening lips quivered: "Do you intimate that I am not straight?"
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
There was a silence; Catharine lounged on the sofa, watching and listening with interest. After a moment Doris shrugged her young shoulders.
"Does it matter so much, anyway?" she said with a short, unpleasant laugh.