Pem turned and looked at her steadily.
“No, you don’t, Nickie,” she said; “not always.”
Nickie looked back at her friend quite as steadily.
“I do,” she said. “I tell you anything that really matters. You see, Pem, the reason I am asking this is because I thought you were rather gone on Arthur Caswell. You see, I’ve known him for a long while, so I—”
Pem turned to open the bureau drawer, and to take out a pair of white gloves and a handkerchief.
“I’ll tell you something, Nickie,” she said in a curt, cool voice. “He would never have looked at me that night if I had been my real self. I acted like a fool, and that’s what he liked. That’s what every one likes. After he’d gone, everything seemed tame and flat, and I felt so lonely that I couldn’t stand it. I’m going to keep on being a fool, Nickie. I’m going to make people like me. I’m going to live, and enjoy myself!”
“All right,” said Nickie; “but what about Arthur Caswell?”
“He’ll never come back.”
“Yes, he will.[Pg 144]”
“If he does, then—but he won’t. I’m not going to waste my life—or what’s left of it.”