“Well, what is it, then?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It must be something!” exclaimed Oliver. “What do all the stories mean?”
“What stories?”
“About you two. I met Mrs. Vivie Patton just now, and she swore me to secrecy, and told me that Mrs. Winnie had told some one that you had made love to her so outrageously that she had to ask you to leave the house.”
Montague shrunk as from a blow. “Oh!” he gasped.
“That’s what she said,” said he.
“It’s a lie!” he cried.
“That’s what I told Mrs. Vivie,” said the other; “it doesn’t sound like you—”
Montague had flushed scarlet. “I don’t mean that!” he cried. “I mean that Mrs. Winnie never said any such thing.”