“I daren’t!” she said briefly. “Miss Beasley trusted me to bring up your tea, and I mustn’t forget I’m a monitress. I shall have to tell her that I’ve been speaking to you. I ought to go now. Good-bye!”
Raymonde drank her tea, but left the bread and butter untouched. She was not hungry, and her head ached. The whole of her gay, careless world seemed to have crumbled to ashes. She wondered what her chums were thinking of her. Did they, like Veronica, mistrust her conduct? She knew that her behaviour was extraordinary. A sense of utter desolation swept over her, and, pushing aside the tea things, she leaned her arms on the table, with her hot face pressed against them.
From this despairing attitude she was aroused by Miss Gibbs, who five minutes later came to fetch the tray.
“Don’t give way, Raymonde!” said the mistress, laying quite a kindly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “There’s to be proper enquiry into this matter to-morrow, and I, for one, trust you’ll be able to clear yourself. Keep your self-control, and be prepared to answer any questions that are put to you then. Remember there’s nothing like courage and speaking the truth.”
“THE DOOR OPENED WITH A FORCIBLE JERK, AND A STRANGER ENTERED”
Raymonde raised herself slowly, hesitated for a moment, then fumbled in her pocket.
“Miss Gibbs,” she faltered, “I’d love to tell you everything, but I can’t. I wonder if you’d trust me enough to send off this letter without opening it, or asking me what I’ve written in it?”