"I guess I had better not tell you what I mean. Miss Farrel gives
herself clean away just by her looks. No living woman was ever made
so there wasn't a flaw in her face but that there was a flaw in her
soul. We're none of us perfect. If there ain't a flaw outside,
there's a flaw inside; you mark my words."

"What was it she said?" asked Mrs. Ayres.

"I don't mean to make trouble. I never did, and I ain't going to
begin now," said Sylvia. Her face took on a sweet, hypocritical
expression.

"What did she say?"

Sylvia fidgeted. She was in reality afraid to speak, and yet her very
soul itched to do so. She answered, evasively. "When a woman talks
about a girl running after a man, I think myself she lives in a glass
house and can't afford to throw stones," said she. She nodded her
head unpleasantly.

Mrs. Ayres reddened. "I suppose you mean she has been talking about
my Lucy," said she. "Well, I can tell you one thing, and I can tell
Miss Farrel, too. Lucy has never run after Mr. Allen or any man. When
she went on those errands to your house I had to fairly make her go.
She said that folks would think she was running after Mr. Allen, even
if he wasn't there, and she has never been, to my knowledge, more
than three times when he was there, and then I made her. I told her
folks wouldn't be so silly as to think such things of a girl like
her."