"I think you can," said site, and she spoke quiet, but in a determined sort of voice that I hadn't heard in her before. "Kitty, tell me! Was it something about my brother?" I couldn't look up in her face, and I wouldn't say "Yes." "I think I know part already, and I want to know the rest," she said. "Don't think me meddlesome, for I have a reason." And she took hold of both my hands, so I couldn't work. "Look up in my face and tell me," she said. "Is it something about Walter—and Mrs. Hammond—and Rupert—and yourself?" "It's all nonsense; only Mrs. Hammond's talk," I said, half crying. "It wasn't anything, really. Only Rupert got cross one day and he called Mr. Russell a puppy. He often did that. And he wanted me to promise never to like Mr. Russell better than him. And I told Rupert he was rude, and I said I did like Mr. Russell the best. And Mrs. Hammond heard me, and laughed about it. And I made her promise not to tell, because—because it sounded silly. And she has told." "Yes; it sounds very silly," Mary said. "But was that all, Kitty? Are you sure? The story has grown." "Yes, I am sure that was all," I answered. "It couldn't be more. Why, that was the day you came, and I didn't even know Mr. Russell then. I was only cross with Rupert, and wanted to tease him, so I said the first words that came into my head." "Mrs. Hammond forgot to mention the date," Mary said gravely. "There's a wonderful difference made by when a thing is said. And she didn't put it exactly in that way, either. She told Walter that Kitty Phrynne cared more for him than for anybody, and made no secret of wanting to marry him." "O no! She couldn't say that!" I cried, dreadfully ashamed. "She did, Kitty." "But—how—?" I tried to ask. "Walter told me himself—not till yesterday. I wish I had known sooner." I turned my head away. Walter had told her! But in what way had he told? Mary seemed to see the question which I could not ask. "He laughed a little about it," she said, in a low voice. "We agreed how absurd it was of Mrs. Hammond to invent such a story; for of course it could not be true. But, Kitty—" She stopped again, and my heart went down, down. "Kitty, I never can be sure if Walter means or does not mean exactly what he says, or whether he tells me the whole. I don't know whether you have found out yet that he does sometimes—that he is not perfectly straightforward. At first I understood that he had only just heard this bit of foolish talk, and then he let slip that he had known it from the first. I can't help being afraid that he may, perhaps, in some way have acted upon it—may have treated you as if—" I think she hardly knew what to say, and what not to say, for she stopped again. She wanted to find out more, yet she did not want to put into my head any fancies not there already. I kept my face turned away, and would not speak. "Kitty, did he?" she whispered. Then I looked round suddenly.