Leslie was unprepared for the long, anguished wail which Jewel sent up. Sight of the little girl’s horrified expression, and she came quickly forward, saying anxiously, “What’s the matter, Jewel?”
“Read it! Read it!” the freshman cried, holding the paper toward Leslie with shaking hands. “Look. You did that. No one but you could have done it. I—I—hate you!” She thrust the paper forcefully into Leslie’s hands.
“What?” Leslie had already busied herself with the fateful news sheet. Squarely at top center of the first page was a badly-blurred picture of a girl in a very short-skirted evening frock. Her pose, however, was distinctly theatrical. Despite blurred reproduction the girl in the picture was unmistakably Jewel. Below the picture Leslie read the large-type headline, “Trapeze Performer a College Innovation.”
Amazed interest glued Leslie’s eyes to the half column article below the head line. She read on, dimly conscious of Jewel’s accompanying angry voice.
“Where did you get that picture?” she finished in time to hear Jewel storm. “You had it all the time. You must have seen our show in Paris, then pretended innocence to me. That picture was on the theatre program, and you know it. No one else knew about me except you. How could you?”
“Come out of it, Jewel,” Leslie said with brusque kindness. “Listen to me. Didn’t I give you my word of honor regarding your secret?”
“Yes, and broke it,” Jewel flung back furiously.
“You should know me better than that. Try to be reasonable. What object would I possibly have in doing any such contemptible thing?”
“How should I know? Probably you told your friend Mrs. Macy about it. She may have told another of her intimate friends,” Jewel replied bitterly. “She—”
“I have told no one. Mrs. Macy is above reproach. You will kindly leave her name out of the discussion.” Pale with wrath, the chill of Leslie’s tones cut through Jewel’s anger.