Claire clasped her hands together and gazed at her sister with a face full of wonder, she seemed so calm and unconcerned, as if it were some one else’s trouble and not her own that had brought the tears into her eyes.
“But, May, why did not you confide in me?”
“Likely! You were always scolding and snubbing me, as it was. I don’t know what you would have said if you had known. Besides, I was afraid of you in those days.”
“May, you will drive me mad,” said Claire, pacing the room.
“Nonsense; and don’t go on running up and down the room like that. Be sensible, and help me.”
“Why have you not told me before?”
“I’ve been going to tell you heaps of times, but you’ve always had something or other to worry about, and I’ve been put off.”
“Till you knew that detection was inevitable; and now you come to me,” cried Claire reproachfully.
“Look here, Claire, are you going to talk sensibly, or am I to go to some lady friend to help me? There’s Mrs Pontardent.”
“No, no,” cried Claire excitedly. “You must not take anyone else into your confidence. Tell me all. But May, May, is this really true, or is it some miserable invention of your own?”