“Renny,” she said, “I have made up my mind.”
“What about?” asked Verena. “Why, Pauline, you do look bad. Your face is as white as a sheet.”
“I shall have to explain,” continued Pauline. “I am going to tell how I got the burn on my arm.”
Verena gave a great sigh of relief.
“I am glad,” she cried. “It is far better to tell.”
“So I think,” said Pauline in an airy fashion. “Give me a kiss, Verena; I must dress for dinner, and I haven’t a moment to lose.”
“You will wear your pretty blouse?”
“Certainly.”
Pauline dashed out of the room, banging the door noisily after her.
“I wonder what she means,” thought Verena. “She is certainly getting rather queer. I am afraid she has a terrible secret on her mind. I am glad she means to confess, poor darling! I seem to have less influence over her than I used to have, and yet I love no one like Paulie. She is all the world to me. I love her far better than the others.”