"But
what, my dear, is the objection--?"
She looked gravely from him to Vanderbank and to Mitchy, and then back
again from one of these to the other. "Do you think I ought to say?"
They both laughed and they both just appeared uncertain, but Vanderbank
spoke first. "I don't imagine, Nanda, that you really know."
"No--as a family, you're perfection!" Mitchy broke out. Before the fire
again, with his cup, he addressed his hilarity to Mr. Longdon. "I told
you a tremendous lot, didn't I? But I didn't tell you about that."
His elder maintained, yet with a certain vagueness, the attitude of
amiable enquiry. "About the--a--family?"
"Well," Mitchy smiled, "about its ramifications. This young lady has a
tremendous friendship--and in short it's all very complicated."
"My dear Nanda," said Vanderbank, "it's all very simple. Don't believe a
word of anything of the sort."
He had spoken as with the intention of a large vague optimism; but there
was plainly something in the girl that would always make for lucidity.
"Do you mean about Carrie Donner? I DON'T believe it, and at any rate I
don't think it's any one's business. I shouldn't have a very high
opinion of a person who would give up a friend." She stopped short with
the sense apparent that she was saying more than she meant, though,
strangely, as if it had been an effect of her type and of her voice,
there was neither pertness nor passion in the profession she had just
made.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161