"They don't like to discuss their own womenfolks with girls like us."
"Oh!"
The exclamation was little more than a whisper.
"But no harm done," airily. "He has to depend on the old man for his bank-roll. I just thought I'd tip you off."
She didn't go again. She stopped wanting to go anywhere, even to the movies, for quite a while. And then, just at eleven one night, while Felicity was before the mirror preparing to go to work and wondering where Cecille could be, the latter came quietly in. Felicity hardly marked her entrance until she dropped suddenly into a chair and began to laugh. It was the laugh which made Felicity turn so sharply. She had had experience with that shrill note in women's voices and knew what it could mean. Such breakdowns were ugly to handle.
She flung sharply round.
"What's tickling you?" she barked harshly. "Shoot! Let's have it. Cut that, now!"
It stayed the slighter girl's hysteria.
"I've been—I've been to a dance," she gurgled.
Felicity gave her no foolish respite.