“No, you won’t. You’ve eleven minutes to wait. Come here.”
There was a queer undefinable something in Helen’s voice that commanded and usually obtained implicit obedience. Catherine came.
“Well? ... What do you want?”
Helen put her arm in Catherine’s.
“It’s not my business,” she said, “but I should like you to tell me what’s been happening to you.”
“Happening? What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean ... Cathie!”
“Yes?”
“Something’s happened. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me.”
Catherine clicked her heels nonchalantly.