“Do you suppose I can’t see that? You’ve been acting like an Ibsen play for the past three days. Why don’t you get it off your mind?” She hitched her chair about, and faced her sister with a curious look. “I’m safe enough. You ought to know that by this time. Come—out with it. What’s wrong? Let’s have the awful details.”
“It isn’t anything to joke about,” remarked Edith, not entirely relishing her sister’s tone.
“I’m not joking—not a bit of it. If you are in any trouble, Sis, you know you can count on me. I may be able to help you out; two heads are better than one, you know.”
With a sudden glance, Edith decided to take her sister into her confidence. Her question, quick and unexpected, aroused Alice to new interest. “Do you like Billy West?” she asked.
“Billy West? Of course I do. What’s he got to do with it?”
“Everything!”
Alice hitched her chair still closer, and looked at her sister in surprise. “You don’t mean to say—?” she began, then concluded her remark with a significant whistle.
“Alice,” said her sister, “you’ve known Billy for a long time. You know he is one of Donald’s best friends—”
“I always thought so. He must like one of you pretty well, judging by the amount of time he spends here.”
“You didn’t know, perhaps, that he was very much in love with me, years ago, before he went to Colorado.”