"Chantel? Oh,
that liar!"
He wheeled and started to go back.
"Wait, stop!" she called, in a strangely altered voice, which brought
him up short. "They're all with him now. You can't--What did you mean?"
He explained, sulkily at first, but ending in a kind of generous rage.
"So I couldn't even stand up to him. And except for Maurice Heywood--Oh,
you need not frown; he's the best friend I ever had."
Mrs. Forrester had walked on, with the same cloudy aspect, the same
light, impatient step. He felt the greater surprise when, suddenly
turning, she raised toward him her odd, enticing, pointed face, and the
friendly mischief of her eyes.
"The best?" she echoed, in the same half-whisper as when she had
flattered him, that afternoon in the dusky well of the pagoda stairway.
"The very best friend? Don't you think you have a better?"
Rudolph stared.
"Oh, you funny, funny boy!" she cried, with a bewildering laugh, of
delight and pride. "I hate people all prim and circumspect, and
you--You'd have flown back there straight at him, before my--before all
the others. That's why I like you so!--But you must leave that horrid,
lying fellow to me.
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