“You are late,” she said. “I asked you to return in half an hour.”
“I’m sorry,” Lexy replied meekly.
“Very well! Now you will please to come with me.”
She rose, and Lexy followed her down the hall to Caroline’s room. Mrs. Enderby unlocked the door, and, when they had entered, locked the door on the inside.
“In fifteen minutes the car is coming,” she said. “I wish you to put on Caroline’s hat and coat and a veil, and leave the house with me.”
“You mean you want me to pretend I’m Caroline?” cried Lexy.
“I wish it to be thought that you are Caroline,” Mrs. Enderby corrected her. “Please waste no time. The car will be here—”
“Mrs. Enderby, I—I can’t do it!”
“You can, Miss Moran, and I think you will.”
But Lexy was pretty close to desperation now. Her honest and vigorous spirit was entangled in a network of promises and obligations and deceptions, and she could not see how to free herself; but she would not passively submit.