Still, the word had been sent. She must hold to it.
Pauline gave Miss Cragge a cool yet perfectly courteous bow, as they met a little later.
"You are Miss Cragge, I believe," she said, very quietly and amiably.
"Oh, I didn't suppose you'd forgotten me so soon!" came the reproachful and rather unsteady answer. Miss Cragge had risen some time before Pauline entered the room, and her gaunt shape, clad in scant gear, looked notably awkward. Her street costume was untidy, shabby, and even bedraggled. She held a bundle of newspapers, which she shifted nervously from hand to hand.
"You wish to speak with me, then?" said Pauline, still courteously.
"Yes," returned Miss Cragge. It was evident that she underwent a certain distinct agitation. "I have called upon you, Mrs. Varick, because I felt that I ought to do so."
"It is, then, a matter of duty, Miss Cragge?"
"Yes—a matter of duty. A matter of duty toward myself. Toward myself as a woman, you know—I think that I have been wronged—greatly wronged."
"Not wronged by me, I hope."
"Through you, by someone else."