"What are you doing? What rubbish is all this? I—it can't go on, Paddy. Kitty didn't do it, I tell you. I—you see, I know she didn't do it. I—I'm not quite such a cad as to—I can't tell you exactly." She broke off abruptly. Her glance crossed Kitty's. The Australian met hers steadfastly, unwaveringly. The prefect's pale face flushed crimson, and again words broke from her stammeringly.
"'What rubbish is all this?' Duane asked."
"I—I'm sorry. I have done you an injustice." Again she broke off, checking herself as if she suddenly realized what she was saying, drew in her breath with a quick gasp and caught at the back of her chair to steady herself.
There was a dead silence for the space of ten seconds. The faces of the girls were a study. Duane had certainly betrayed herself this time. Her conscience must have been pricking her badly, or the shock of hearing Kitty arraigned, as she thought, for committing a crime of which she was innocent would not have made her give herself away so completely. But having been absent all day, she was probably unaware of the outbreak of feeling against Kitty, and was not prepared for the shock.
She was silent now, and had pulled herself together, regaining something of her usual composure, though her agitation was still betrayed by the nervous way she was biting her underlip.
But her guilt had been written unmistakably on her face during that half-minute or so during which she had lost control.
Paddy made a desperate and heroic effort to get back to the state of "as you were." Needless to say, it failed dismally. Nobody took any notice of her, everyone being too occupied in staring open-mouthed at Duane and Kitty.
The next minute Salome had pushed her way forward. She was one of the first to grasp all that Duane's few, incoherent, impulsive words must mean; certainly she was the first to act. She went up to Duane and took her by the arm.