"What don't you believe?"
"That rotten club gossip."
"About me?"
"Yes," said Carroll, reddening.
The hermit pushed his glasses down, settled into place the white
gloves, with their soothing contents of emollient greases, and got
to his feet.
"We'd best be moving. I've got much to do," he said.
"Not yet," retorted Carroll. "Perkins, is there a woman up there
on the mountains with you?"
"That is purely my own business."
"You told Miss Brewster there wasn't. If you tell me--"
"I never told her any such thing. She misunderstood."
"Who is the woman?"
"If you want it even more frankly, that is none of your concern."
"You have been letting Miss Brewster--"
"Are you engaged to marry Miss Brewster?"
"No."
"Then you have no authority to question me. But," he added
wearily, "if it will ease your mind, and because of what you've
done to-day, I 'll tell you this--that I do not expect ever to see
Miss Brewster again."
"That isn't enough," insisted Carroll, his face darkening. "Her
name has already been connected with yours, and I intend to follow
this through.
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