“Clothes, clothes!” she fairly bit at the words. “All girls care for is clothes.” And this was a frank confession that she too cared a lot about clothes, else why was she being so upset over them?
“And they’ll probably say I just wanted to run off this way in Dudley’s car.” Another unpleasant thought, but there might have been a good reason behind it, for Louise and Esther had both called after her. They had been joking of course, and while their words were something about not “running away or going on too long a ride,” it would have been stupid not to understand just what they meant. They were teasing her about playing tennis, first, and going car riding, second, with Dudley.
“I’ll just show them how much I care about their old party,” Barbara pouted, sliding down into her comfortable arm chair. “Poverty suits me—when it’s my own.”
Her eyes reluctantly swept the room with its uncompromising shabbiness. Perhaps within her eyes the picture of those other rooms, Cara’s, refused to be obliterated; at any rate, her things had never before looked so ugly, so old, so faded, and so—so hateful. They almost made her shiver. That dresser with brass handles, when they might easily have been changed for glass. And a mantelpiece! As if a mantel were of any possible beauty or use!
“Barbara! Babs!”
Her father calling. “Dear Dads!” This was not a sigh of self-pity. “It isn’t his fault. I wonder why brains, real brains are sold so cheap? Yes, Dad,” she answered, patting her face with the powder puff, “I’m coming.” She was on her feet again and going back to the party. Of course she would have to go. Nicky’s accident had seemed like a temporary release, but she must go back to Cara’s.
Nicky!
Why was he fearful of Dudley Burke or any stranger going to his place? Yes, he must have something to hide.
“And I’ll just see that he hides it,” Barbara determined bitterly, as if Nicky’s troubles were so like her own, and as if he too had a right to protect himself from strangers’ interference.
But what was he hiding? She wondered, as she tried to cover up the signs of her rebellion, tried to recapture the expression of happiness which she had shed when she slammed the door of her room.