Emmy shot a curiously speculative glance after the two as they disappeared. She wondered what now ailed finicky Blanche. Marian placidly continued her unpacking. She was not concerned by the request for a private session with Ruth.
“Did you give Martha my message? What did she say?” They were hardly in the hall when Blanche began her questioning.
“She didn’t like it very well.” Ruth had decided not to be too hasty. It was just possible that Blanche intended to offer a satisfactory explanation of what Ruth had privately observed. “She said she didn’t like to go against Miss Drexal’s orders. I repeated what you said about not caring to worry Miss Drexal, and saving extra work. Then she said, ‘All right,’ but that she would have to tell Miss Drexal to-night. I said it wouldn’t matter then, because—”
“You shouldn’t have said that! It matters a good deal!” Vexation robbed Blanche of caution. They had now reached her room and entered.
“Why?” Ruth swung the door shut, and faced her companion, her usually placid features alive with accusation.
“I didn’t want her to know. That’s all. Why—what’s the—matter?” Blanche began haughtily enough, but ended by stammering. Ruth’s stern expression sent a chill to her heart.
“That is not all,” Ruth grimly contradicted. “I’m glad you asked me to come here. Still, I should have come anyway to ask you to explain a number of things.”
“What do you mean?” Blanche tried to pretend amazement.
“You know very well what I mean.” Ruth made an impatient gesture. “Why pretend that you don’t? You’ve deceived me from the very start, but you can’t do it any longer. I saw you this afternoon in the automobile that passed us—”
“Where were you when you—” With a gasp Blanche checked herself, looking the picture of guilt.