On Saturday afternoon the four were in one of the rooms discussing where the farewell dinner should be held and what they would eat and drink. Etta called Susan into the other room and shut the door between.
"Fatty wants me to go along with him and live in Detroit," said she, blurting it out as if confessing a crime.
"Isn't that splendid!" cried Susan, kissing her. "I thought he would. He fell in love with you at first sight."
"That's what he says. But, Lorna—I—I don't know what to do!"
"Do? Why, go. What else is there? Go, of course."
"Oh, no, Lorna," protested Etta. "I couldn't leave you. I couldn't get along without you."
"But you must go. Don't you love him?"
Etta began to weep. "That's the worst of it. I do love him so! And I think he loves me—and might marry me and make me a good woman again. . . . You mustn't ever tell John or anybody about that—that dreadful man I went with—will you, dear?"
"What do you take me for?" said Susan.
"I've told Fatty I was a good girl until I met him. You haven't told John about yourself?" Susan shook her head.