Joan broke it, saying briefly, "Ghost. Rosalind's essay. Kathy's ring. Rachel's gold pencil. Now, Kathy's necklace. Look out for your lamp, Alison!"
"Oh, nonsense," Alison said laughing nervously. "You can't suspect—Oh, I don't like being suspicious."
"All right. I only say, look out."
Chapter VII
WITHOUT LEAVE
"Want to go to a party, Rosalind?"
It was a dull, uninteresting-looking day in early December. Snow was threatening and out-of-doors looked anything but attractive. Rosalind was toiling over a history lesson and wishing that all the kings and queens of France had been guillotined before they made trouble for future generations of schoolgirls, instead of afterward, when a tap at the door heralded Marcia and her exciting question.
Rosalind dropped her book, casting Louis XIV to the winds.