Louise looked up, her face white and drawn, astonishment veiling the pain in her eyes.
“Lucy, Lucy! Do you know—about your father—and this man—and yet you will go with him?”
Lucy’s curly head was high as she answered deliberately: “Yes, Dearie! I am going so that I can save daddy from any further trouble. I shall tell Mr. Conrad who daddy is.”
Miss Dent gasped and her mouth worked for a moment before she could speak. “Oh, child, you don’t know what you are doing! I beg of you, Lucy, don’t go—don’t do it! If you love me, if you love your father, don’t tell him! He will kill—”
The girl drew herself up proudly. “Indeed, Dearie, you don’t know Curtis Conrad as well as I do, if you think he will do the least thing to hurt daddy, after he knows. That’s why I’m going to tell him—to save daddy. I love him, Dearie, but I shall not let him know that I do. And I want to hear him say, just once, that he loves me—and then I shall tell him—who I am and who daddy is.” She turned half away, then rushed back to throw her arms around her friend’s neck. “Darling Dearie, I know I am hurting you! But won’t you trust me about this, and love me just the same? I know I am doing the best thing for daddy—and—after to-day, I’m never going to see Curtis Conrad again!”
Louise fell back, exhausted, as Lucy kissed her forehead and ran from the room.