"Walter Pennington," replied Paul, smiling.
"Indeed, Walter probably has forgotten my very existence."
"Then it was—"
"Oh, you would never guess. It—was—Rob Roland!"
A dark look stole over the face of the young man on the bed. "I don't like him, Clip," he said.
"Neither do I," she replied promptly. "That is precisely why I am so nice to him. I have to keep friends with him just now. And I have not the slightest doubt his motive is identical with my own." She paused to laugh indifferently, then she tossed aside her dust coat and stood revealed in spotless white linen. "How do you like me?" she asked, straightened up to her short height. "Am I not a full-fledged 'strained' nurse, now? You know I am summoned to court this afternoon, and all the papers will describe me."
Her brightness seemed infectious. Paul leaned upon his elbow, and
Hazel was actually interested in Clip's new costume.
"Yes," she went on. "You see, Mrs. Salvey has been called to account for Wren—did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous? Those lawyer relatives of hers pretend to believe that Wren is being neglected because we have taken her away from the supposed care of that absurd doctor. Well, I just told Mrs. Salvey to answer the summons and go to court. It will be the best thing that ever happened to have her get her real story before the public."
"But what about yourself?" asked Hazel. "They will ask you how old you are, and what is your occupation?"
"And my friends will all fall dead." Cecilia did not appear worried at the prospect. "Well, I shall say I am not as old as some girls, and that I am engaged in being a member of the Motor Girls' Club."