“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.
“No,” she said, “I can’t. I’ve found out something—I can’t tell you about it just now, but this afternoon I hope—”
“This afternoon is another thing,” said Mrs. Enderby. “In the meantime—”
“But it’s important! It’s—”
“You think I do not know? You think this letter sets my mind at rest?” Mrs. Enderby demanded, with one of her sudden flashes of temper. “That is imbecile! I know how serious it is that my child should leave me like this; but I know what is my duty—first, to my husband. That first, I tell you! It is for me to see that no disgrace comes upon his house, no scandal—that first! Then, next, I must see to it that the way is left open for Caroline to come back—if she wishes.” She came close to Lexy, and fixed those black eyes of hers upon the girl’s face. “I tell you, Miss Moran, there will be no scandal!”
In spite of herself, Lexy was impressed.
“But suppose—” she began.