"You are Stephanie Mourraille to me—no matter what you did or may do. Isn't that enough? So let us forget it."
"I can't forget it, dear," Stephanie answered.
"Well, you can make a bluff at it!" Gladys laughed, as she arose to go. "I'll telephone you to-morrow about the luncheon, unless I see you before then. What are you doing to-morrow morning?"
"I've nothing to do," said Stephanie. "I'm not pressed with engagements as yet."
"I hope not—I want mine to be the first," Gladys returned easily. "I'll be at home all morning so if you can come over you'll find me in."
"Do you quite appreciate what you're about to do?" Stephanie protested.
Gladys stopped and looked at her thoughtfully a moment.
"Stephanie," said she, "if you are going to play this hand through you must not think for your friends. Let them think for you, and act as they see fit—and don't you be bothering about what is past."
"I'm not bothering—except for my friends," was the answer.
"And your friends are amply able to look out for themselves. They are not obligated to do anything for you unless they choose. You just sit tight in the saddle and give the mare her head—above all, don't fret her. You understand."