“Miss Lucretia, do you believe what it says about Jethro Bass?” repeated Cynthia.
How was she to avoid those eyes? They pierced into, her soul, even as her own had pierced into Mrs. Merrill's. Oh, Miss Lucretia, who pride yourself on your plain speaking, that you should be caught quibbling! Miss Lucretia blushed for the first time in many, years, and into her face came the light of battle.
“I am a coward, my dear. I deserve your rebuke. To the best of my knowledge and belief, and so far as I can judge from the inquiries I have undertaken, Jethro Bass has made his living and gained and held his power by the methods described in those articles.”
Miss Lucretia took off her spectacles and wiped them. She had committed a fine act of courage.
Cynthia stood up.
“Thank you,” she said, “that is what I wanted to know.”
“But—” cried Miss Lucretia, in amazement and apprehension, “but what are you going to do?”
“I am going to Coniston,” said Cynthia, “to ask him if those things are true.”
“To ask him!”
“Yes. If he tells me they are true, then I shall believe them.”