tried beyond self-control. "I wonder if you do it on purpose?"
"That's your quick-tempered American mother," said Maud. "If I'm slangy I've learnt it from Norman. I'm awfully imitative without meaning it, you know. And I seem to feel what people are thinking about, in the most curious way, when I'm excited. It's like telepathy—or the way a blotting-pad absorbs ink. I felt how your testimony turned the tide of suspicion which had begun to set in against Ian, after that curious exhibition of his—and the things Milly's maid said and the questions they began asking you. But, of course, we can't hope that the idea won't be discussed—that people won't talk. It would be so dramatic, you know, if"
"If what?" Terry asked defiantly.
"You said 'don't, even to you,' when I first wanted to discuss it."
The blood rushed to Terry Ricardo's face. "How can you, Maud?" she cried. "When he has been your friend for years."
"I'm doing nothing, saying nothing, and believing nothing against him," Mrs. Ricardo defended herself, vexed with her companion. "I'm only glancing at what other people will say—for they will, you know. One might as well look facts in the face. At least, I should think that would be your way, as you pride yourself on your courage—which I don't, at all.
