"Shall I leave you here?" she asked in a low tone as Grace returned, a second folded paper in her hand.
"No," replied Grace. "I think it would be well for you to go with me. I don't know any one else I'd rather have," she added honestly.
"Thank you," bowed Elfreda, flushing and looking embarrassed at the compliment. "I'll never desert Micawber—Harlowe, I mean."
"Look serious. I am ready," said Grace softly. Then she knocked imperatively upon the door. There was a tense moment of waiting, then the door was opened by Kathleen West herself. Her sharp face looked still sharper as she eyed her visitors with ill-concealed disapproval.
"Good evening, Miss West," said Grace with distant politeness. "If you are not too busy, can you spare Miss Briggs and me a few moments? We have something of grave importance to say to you."
"Please make your business as brief as possible," snapped Kathleen, holding the door as though ready to close it in their faces the instant they stated their errand.
"Thank you," said Grace with unruffled calm. "We had better step inside your room, for a moment, at least. The hall is hardly the place for what I have to say."
The newspaper girl darted a swift, appraising glance at Grace. Her shrewd eyes fell before the steady light of Grace's gray ones. "Come in," she said shortly, then in a sarcastic tone, "Shall I close the door?"
"It would be better, I think," returned Grace in quietly significant tones.
The color flooded Kathleen West's sallow face. Her eyes began to flash ominously. "Your tone is insulting, Miss Harlowe!" she exclaimed.