Eleanor now felt her curiosity rising for she realized she was on the verge of hearing what had caused Polly’s concern. But she knew she must be circumspect in her replies, or her friend would take alarm and not say a word.
“Polly, there speaks the born actress. When on the stage, acting in a play, the artiste is carried away by her own depth of feeling and faith in the truth of what she is saying or doing. Now, you see, you did the same and that proves you should study stage-craft instead of interior decorating.” Eleanor spoke in a jocular tone.
Polly smiled at her friend, but she was too preoccupied with her problem to pay attention to Eleanor—whether she was in earnest or whether she was speaking in fun.
Suddenly Polly asked: “Nolla, are you engaged to Paul?”
Eleanor was taken off her feet. She never dreamed of having Polly ask her bluntly about her private interests in any one.
“W-h-y, n-o-o—not ex-actly!” stammered she in reply.
Polly sat and stared at her companion as if to search out the truth. Then she said: “Have you any idea of being engaged within the next year or two?”
“Well, now, Poll,” returned Eleanor, finding her depth once more, and treading water to get her breath, “you know how I admire Paul, and you also know that Paul says he loves me. That was most obvious at Dalky’s party, the night Paul arrived so unexpectedly. But when you speak of engagements, I must remind you of the law you laid down for me—not to tie myself to any such entanglement until after we had had our fill of business. Am I right?”
“Exactly!” sighed Polly. “But that does not go to say that you obeyed my law. There may be a secret understanding between you and Paul, and that is what I want to hear about.”
“It may be the same sort of a secret understanding as now exists between you and Tom Latimer,” retorted Eleanor, taking a wild chance that such was the fact.