"Good heavens, Kate, do
you mean to say that YOU told her THAT."
"Why, y-yes."
"And may I ask where you got your information?"
"Why, William Henshaw, what a question! I got it from yourself, of
course," defended Kate.
"From ME!" William's face expressed sheer amazement.
"Certainly; on that drive when I was East in June," returned Kate, with
dignity. "YOU evidently have forgotten it, but I have not. You told me
very frankly how much you thought of her, and how you longed to have her
back there with you, but that she didn't seem to be ready to come. I was
sorry for you, and I wanted to do something to help, particularly as
it might have been my fault, partly, that she went away, in the first
place."
William lifted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, nothing, only that I--I told her a little of how--how upsetting
her arrival had been to everything, and of how much you had done for
her, and put yourself out. I said it so she'd appreciate things, of
course, but she took it quite differently from what I had intended she
should take it, and seemed quite cut up about it. Then she went away in
that wily, impulsive fashion."
William bit his lip, but he did not speak. Kate was plunging on
feverishly, and in the face of the greater revelation he let the lesser
one drop.
"And so that's why I was particularly anxious to bring things around
right again," continued Kate.
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