Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/278

268 one word about one special thing. Laurel, listen, if you go to New York for a season you'll be almost sure to run across Richard Grosvenor! He knew Mrs. Morrison, and—"

"Oh, don't drag in Richard Grosvenor."

"And if you did—you can't tell. He was crazy about you—"

"Now, mother."

"Well, he was."

"I'm all over Richard Grosvenor, now, mother."

"You're not. No such thing."

"But I am! I am! I never even answered his letters last fall."

"His letters!"

"Yes. He wrote me—twice. Mrs. Morrison forwarded them. I never told you because you were so silly about him."

Stella shoved her chair back from the table with a fierce jerk and stood up.

"I know why you didn't answer his letters. I know mighty well! Of course you couldn't answer his letters! Of course you couldn't, with him in college right across the river, here, likely—no, sure, to look you up in this hole, and find out we didn't know any of his Back Bay friends, not a single one of the young ladies whose dances he's been ushering at! Oh, I've seen his name in the lists in the papers, too. I've got eyes, and I've just suffered for you, Lollie. Of course you couldn't write to him and have him come here, and find out how we live, and what sort of a freak I am—"

"Mother!"

"That's all right. I know—I'm no fool, Laurel.