..."
He moved a little impatiently.
"Look here, old girl, you mustn't call him that. He's one of the very best
friends I've ever had--and I've been rather pulled up lately--ever since
that night you sent me to Brockett's. I've felt ashamed of myself. All my
happiness and--you--and everything have made me forget my old friends and
that won't do."
She laughed. "And now I suppose you're going to neglect me for them--for
horrid people like that man who came to-night."
Her voice was shaking a little--he saw that her hands were clenched on her
lap. He looked down at her in astonishment.
"My dear Clare, what do you mean? How could you say a thing like that even
in jest? You know--"
She broke in upon him almost fiercely--"It wasn't jest. I meant what I
said. I hate all these earlier people you used to know--and now, after our
being so happy all this time, you're going to take them up again and make
the place impossible--"
"Look here, Clare, you mustn't speak of them like that--they're my friends
and they've got to be treated as such." His voice was suddenly stern. "And
by the way as we are talking about it I don't think it was very kind of you
to tell me nothing at all about poor Norah's being so ill. She asked you to
tell me and you never said a word. That wasn't very kind of you."
"I did speak to you about it but you forgot--"
"I don't think you did--I am quite sure that I should not have forgotten--"
"Oh, of course you contradict me.
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