Sally laughed nervously. "I—I meant that anything you may hear about me isn't true."
"Clear as mud, Sally. Well, I'll remember. Anything that I hear about you isn't true. But I'm not likely to hear the voice of rumor especially if it's about you."
Sally made no reply to this, and Fox went on. "When it began to grow dark, I made some inquiries, and I found a certain person who had seen you go out; and you had met a man at the next corner—Who was the man, Sally?"
"Everett," Sally replied briefly; and she started to say more, but thought better of it—or worse, as you like—and shut her lips tight together.
"Oh, yes, she said she thought it was Everett. I thought that, perhaps, she was mistaken."
"No," said Sally, "she was not mistaken."
"Hum!" said Fox, smiling to himself; but Sally could not see that. "And this exceedingly well-informed person said that you and Everett evidently had a spat on the street corner, and that he went off, mad."
"Yes," said Sally, nodding. She might have known that Fox couldn't see the nod.
"Too bad!" said Fox. "Exemplary young man—especially one who has seen the world and who has as perfect manners as Everett wishes it to be thought that he has—shouldn't go off mad. Very young. It reminds one of your young friend, Spencer. We should expect him to go off mad, shouldn't we, Sally?"
Sally chuckled again. "We should."