"Just till she gets used to you, you know. Then we can tell her!"
II
Polly lay back on her pillows, looking at Angelica. She didn’t ask her to sit down. Angelica returned her gaze resentfully and miserably, ashamed of her preposterous position, but quite helpless, having no idea how to extricate herself. She didn’t feel able to say bluntly that Mrs. Russell’s story was a lie, although she could see that Polly was suspicious—more than suspicious—and she was certain that she could not sustain any sort of examination.
"When did you come?" inquired Polly.
"Last night."
"Alone?"
"No; she brought me."
"Mrs. Russell, you mean? And she says she was a school friend of your mother’s. I wonder what school!"
"I don’t know."
"Does she often visit your mother?"