“Short in the sleeves?”
“To the elbows. It was my sophomore evening dress.”
“It will be all right, I know. Rachel, wear a white rose in those low black braids of yours—will you?”
“No, I think I won’t,” refused Rachel.
“Why not?”
Rachel did not answer. Into her cool cheek crept a tinge of rebellious, telltale colour.
Juliet studied her a minute in silence, then came up to her and laying both hands on her shoulders looked up into her eyes.
“You try to ‘play fair,’ don’t you, dear?” she said heartily, “whatever the rest may do. And whatever they may do, Rachel Redding, don’t you care. It’s not your fault that they are as jealous of you as girls can be and keep sweet outside. I’d be jealous of you myself if——” She paused, laughing.
“When you grow jealous,” said Rachel, “it will be because you have grown blind. If anybody ever wore his heart on his sleeve—no, not there—but beating sturdily in the right place for one woman in the world it’s——”
“Right you are,” said Anthony Robeson, coming up behind them, “and I hope you may convince her of it. She has no confidence in her own powers.”