"No, no; of course not!" she answered. "I—I twisted my ankle." It was a kindly lie.
It was, Clancy thought, characteristic of Sophie Carey that she forgot her own unhappiness in sympathy for Clancy. The older woman threw an arm about the girl.
"Oh, my dear! You poor thing——"
"It's all right," said Clancy. She withdrew, almost hastily, from the embrace. Postpone it though she might, she was going to bring disgrace upon the name of Carey. She had to—to save herself. She could not endure the other's caress now.
"Who was it?" asked Mrs. Carey.
Clancy averted her eyes.
"I don't know," she said. "I—— The door was closed."
"It doesn't matter," said the older woman. "I—I—I'm nervous. Don is so——" Her speech trailed away into a long sigh. The deep respiration seemed to give her strength. She straightened up. "I'm getting old, I'm afraid. I can't bear my troubles as easily as I used to. I want to force some one to share them with me. You are very kind, Miss Deane. Now——"
She had preceded Clancy into her bedroom. From a desk, she took a slip of paper and a ring from which dangled several keys.
"We're all ready to go," she said. "It only remains to check up my inventory. But I'm quite sure that we can trust you and Sally Henderson"—her smile was apparently quite unforced—"not to cheat us. If there are any errors in my list, Sally can notify me."