wild boys after her—the nice ones don’t bother with her, you notice.”
“Ronnie Gibson’s nice, isn’t he?”
“Well, what do you say to Marshall Orde?’
“Ilse has nothing to do with Marshall Orde.”
“Oh, hasn’t she! She was driving with him till twelve o’clock last Tuesday night—and he was drunk when he got the horse from the livery stable.”
“I don’t believe a word of it! Ilse never went driving with Marsh Orde.” Emily was white-lipped with indignation.
“I was told by a person who saw them. Ilse is being talked about everywhere. Perhaps you have no authority over her but surely you have some influence. Though you do foolish things yourself sometimes, don’t you? Not meaning any harm perhaps. That time you went bathing on the Blair Water sands without any clothes on, for instance? That’s known all through the school. I heard Marsh’s brother laughing about it. Now, wasn’t that foolish, my dear?”
Emily blushed with anger and shame—though quite as much over being my-deared by Evelyn Blake as anything else. That beautiful bathing by moonlight—what a thing of desecration it had been made by the world! She would not discuss it with Evelyn—she would not even tell Evelyn they had their petticoats on. Let her think what she would.
“I don’t think you quite understand some things, Miss Blake,” she said, with a certain fine, detached irony of tone and manner which made very commonplace words seem charged with meanings unutterable.
“Oh, you belong to the Chosen People, don’t you?” Evelyn laughed her malicious little laugh.
“I do,” said Emily calmly, refusing to withdraw her eyes from her note-book.
“Well, don’t get so vexed, dear. I only spoke because I thought it a pity to see poor Ilse getting in wrong everywhere. I rather like her, poor soul. And I wish
