'Good-night, Peggy.'
'Good-night, Peggy.'
'Good-night—and I should like to kiss you both,' said Peggy Ryle. 'You're not to say anybody came, you know.'
They nodded, and went into the passage.
'I shall come and see you soon,' Peggy told Tommy Trent, as she shut the baize door behind them. Then she turned into Elfreda's room. 'Come and have some supper now,' she said.
Trix Trevalla caught her by the hands and kissed her. 'You look so pretty and so happy, dear,' she sighed; 'and I'm such a guy!'
The term hardly described her pale strained face, feverishly bright eyes, and the tangle of brown hair which hung in disorderly masses round her brow. She had thrown off her wet jacket and skirt, and put on a tea-gown of Elfreda Flood's; her feet were in the same lady's second-best slippers. Peggy led her into the sitting-room and made her eat.
'I didn't tell them who you were. And anyhow they wouldn't say anything,' she assured the wanderer.
'Well, who am I?' asked Trix. 'I hardly know. I know who I was before dinner, but who am I now?'