"No, and I don't want it to be found out at home. Beatrice always takes in the letters and deals them round. It was by the merest good luck she didn't get hold of mine on Saturday. Netta, do let me use your address! You might do that much for me!"
"Why should I? I've done quite enough for you, and too much already. I'm tired of the whole business. I was silly to be mixed up with it in the beginning."
"But you started it! You took me into Miss Roscoe's room, and then you suggested going to Parker's and replacing the china."
"Are you trying to throw the blame on me?" flared Netta.
"Not altogether; but I think you were partly responsible, and that you got off cheaply."
"That's uncommonly fine," sneered Netta. "No, no, my good Gwen, that little dodge won't work. This child isn't going to be burden-bearer for your sins. If you get into scrapes you must get out of them yourself. I've lost a sovereign over you already."
"And for what?" exploded Gwen angrily. "What about my beautiful essay, that you took and used as your own?"
"Wasn't worth it! It was a freak of mine just then to win that prize, but I've never looked at the book since. I'm sorry I troubled about it. I'd rather have the sov. now."
"And I'm sorry too, because it wasn't fair and square, and I've felt vile about it ever since. I hate all these underhand things."
Netta smiled sarcastically.