"Ye know, lambie," she said with elaborate indifference, "ye
aren't havin' to see anybody ye don't want to. If it's somebody
intrudin' himself on ye, just say the word and I'll fire him;
higher than Guilderoy's kite I'll be firin' him."
"No, I must see him, Katy," said Linda quietly. "And have
something specially nice for dinner. Very likely I'll take him
to see Peter Morrison's house and possibly I'll ask him and Peter
to dinner. He is a San Francisco architect from the firm where
Marian takes her lessons, and it's business about Peter's house.
I was surprised, that's all."
Then Linda turned and laid a hand on each of Katy's hairy red
arms.
"Katherine O'Donovan, old dear," she said, "if we do come back
for dinner, concentrate on Mr. Snow and study him. Scrutinize,
Katy! It's a bully word. Scrutinize closely. To add one more to
our long lists of secrets, here's another. He's the man I told
you about who has asked Marian to marry him, and Marian has
refused him probably because she prefers somebody nearer home."
Then Linda felt the tensing of every muscle in Katy's body. She
saw the lift of her head, the incredulous, resentful look in her
eyes. There was frank hostility in her tone.
"Well, who is there nearer home that Marian knows?" she demanded
belligerently.
"Well, now, who would there be?" retorted Linda.
"Ye ain't manin' John Gilman?" asked Katy.
"No," said Linda, "I am not meaning John Gilman.
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