Unity flushed brick-red, realizing her indiscretion. She knew well enough now why she had been forbidden the sea-chamber.
“I was a noisy, horrid, badly-brought-up child,” she said, “and they were afraid I should worry you. That was why,” she said, with a slight air of defiance.
Stella was not convinced; the story lacked the ring of truth that characterized Unity's other statements. She felt that for some unknown reason they had lied to her, and that in order to bear them out Unity was lying. Her loyalty and delicacy forbade her questioning Unity further.
“If you were horrid, you would n't have remembered me all this time,” she said, with a smile.
“That 's just how you looked when I called you 'my lady,' “ said Unity. “How do you think one could forget you? Besides, Mr. Herold is always talking about you.”
Stella opened her eyes. “Do you know Mr. Herold, too?”
“Of course. He's my guardian's dearest friend.”
Stella's heart sank lower. Her Great High Favourite, too, was in this conspiracy of concealment.
“Does—does your guardian ever speak of me?”
“Why should he?” asked Unity.