“If I was going to waste any lives,” said Nickie, “I’d rather waste my own than any one else’s.”
Pem was astounded.
“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “Are you trying to preach to me, Nickie? It was you who started the whole thing—always pestering me to go to parties.”
“I never went out with a married man in my life,” said Nickie; “and I never would, either.”
“That’s a little too much, after that last party!” returned Pem scornfully. “You wouldn’t go out with a married man, but you don’t mind three fellows who’ve been drinking!”
“How do you know I didn’t mind?” cried Nickie, jumping up. “Just let me tell you, Pem—I knew Arthur Caswell’s people in Halifax. His father’s a strict Presbyterian. I know what he’d think about that, and I’d have stopped Arthur, too, if—”
Pem was about to make a sharp retort, but she changed her mind in time. Going over to Nickie, she put her arms about her friend.
“I’m sorry, little pal,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to.”
Nickie gave her a rough little hug.
“All right, Pem,” she said. “I know! But, Pem, for my sake, please don’t go out with this man. You’ll be sorry for it—awfully sorry. It’s not like you. Don’t do it, Pem!”