pleaded; "for I saw her yesterday at Bellborough."
Mr. Prodmore contested even this freedom. "And what was she doing at Bellborough?"
"Staying at the Blue Dragon, to see the old abbey. She says she just loves old abbeys. It seems to be the same feeling," the girl went on, "that brought her over, today, to see this old house."
"She 'just loves' old houses? Then why the deuce didn't she accompany you properly, since she is so pushing, to the door?"
"Because she went off in a fly," Cora explained, "to see, first, the old hospital. She just loves old hospitals. She asked me if this isn't a show-house. I told her"—the girl was anxious to disclaim responsibility—"that I hadn't the least idea."
"It is!" Mr. Prodmore cried almost with ferocity. "I wonder, on such a speech, what she thought of you!"
Miss Prodmore meditated with distinct humbleness. "I know. She told me."
He had looked her up and down. "That you're really a hopeless frump?"
Cora, oddly enough, seemed almost to court this description. "That I'm not, as she rather funnily called it, a show-girl."
