Marjorie was startled, in spite of herself.
“Thought that would nail you!” smirked Gertie.... “Well, guess we better beat it.”
Silently Marjorie accompanied them down the stairs to the college door, disturbed by their visit more than she would admit even to herself.
When she returned to her room, she did not take up her books again, but sat very still, lost in meditation. She assured herself that there was very little basis of truth in Gertie’s last supposition, yet she could not dismiss it entirely from her mind. Queenie was so impulsive, so young, the glamour of the thing might get the better of her judgment. What a tragedy that would be, if the young man were, as Gertie suggested, far from what he should be!
She could not make up her mind whether to tell Lily or not, but finally she decided that it would hardly be fair to Queenie. Undoubtedly the story was an exaggeration, if not an absolute lie, and it would only do harm to repeat it. She rejected also the idea of consulting the girl’s parents, for the same reason; the only remaining solution was to investigate for herself. She must meet the man, and form her own judgment of him; then, if she found cause for worry, she could plead with the girl herself.
“I must plan it like a party,” she thought, “so that Queenie won’t suspect anything. But how can I arrange it? Two girls and one man would seem so one-sided——”
In a flash the answer came to her.
“I’ll consult John!” she decided. “Thank goodness he’s in sympathy with my work!”