"You have good news," repeated the astonished girl, with an unpleasant inflection of the pronoun.
"Yes, Helen. Do be--reasonable. I am in such a hurry. There is a caller for you at the office----"
"Won't you step in?" asked Helen, interested now.
"Oh, yes, Helen," and Marian, condescending and abject, crossed the sill. "I don't know how to tell you, but he gave the name Dolorez forged to your card. He says he is--Stanislaus!"
"Oh, my Stanislaus! Where is he! You are not deceiving me again!" and with this question, the excited girl seized Marian, whirled her around to the light, and glared into her frightened face.
"Oh, no, Helen. I would not deceive you like that. I did not write that card, or think of it. It was Dol----"
"Yes, you need talk to me of her, and I believe you now, although--but never mind," suddenly breaking off her unfinished sentence. "Where is the one who says he--is--my--Stanislaus?"
"At the office. I met him looking for you, and I offered to come. But just one moment, Helen, please. I am in deep trouble, and I want to ask your forgiveness first."
The Polish girl breathed heavily, and drew away just a trifle. But that action gave Marian her answer.
"But you know Jane would be reasonable, Helen, and I want to have the courage to face her--when she comes. Think, you have had so much worry, but now it will soon be over surely, yet I am more alone than you, for I have no--good friend."