“Oh, I promise,” said Fanchon. “I expect I was a sort of a brute this morning—I didn’t understand you could be so kind. Are you making a fool of me, Brenda—do you mean what you say?”
“Of course I mean what I say. You faithfully promise?”
“I do—indeed—indeed; and I will explain things to the others, and I’ll force them to believe me—they generally do everything that I wish. You will buy us all the lovely clothes, won’t you, darling Brenda!”
“I have said so, Fanchon.”
“And you will take me out in the evenings when the other two are in bed?”
“Most certainly I will.”
“Then I will promise everything—I will be your friend through thick and thin, and I’m awfully sorry I was cross to you and—and disbelieved you. Of course, I see that dear papa has to be managed; he is so funny about our dress—so different from other men.”
“Your father is a most saint-like man, and you must never say that he is funny, for that is not right. But saint-like men have to be managed in this unsaintlike world, that is all, dear—every woman understands that, she wouldn’t be worth her salt if she didn’t.”
“Please, please show me the bracelet,” said Fanchon. Then Brenda went to the drawer where her treasures were and took out the little old box where her false jewellery had reposed, and where now the beautiful bangle lay in all its pristine freshness. She hated beyond words to see Fanchon even touch it, but she felt that she had to pay this price to secure her own safety, and she even permitted the girl to clasp it round her wrist, and to look at it with the colour flaming into her cheeks and the light of longing in her dull eyes.
“Oh—isn’t it just—too perfect!” said Fanchon.