“It seems I've been the subject of a lot of talk during the last two days, and I have been saddled with a matter for which I am in no way responsible, though it appears to reflect on me quite as much as if I were.”
“Really, Mr. Oakley”—began Constance, scenting danger ahead. But her visitor was in no mood to temporize.
“One moment, please,” he said, hastily. “You have heard the story from Mr. Ryder.”
“I have heard it from others as well.”
“It has influenced you—”
“No, I won't say that,” defiantly. She was not accustomed to being catechised.
“At least it has caused you to seriously doubt the wisdom of an acquaintance,” blurted Oakley. “You are very unfair,” rising with latent anger.
“You will greatly oblige me by sitting down again.”
And Constance, astonished beyond measure at his tone of command, sank back into her chair with a little smothered gasp of surprise. No one had ever ventured to speak to her like that before. It was a new experience.
“We've got to finish this, you know,” explained Dan, with one of his frankest smiles, and there was a genial simplicity about his smile which was very attractive. Constance, however, was not to be propitiated, but she kept her seat. She was apprehensive lest Oakley would do something more startling and novel if she attempted to cut short the interview.