Sidney colored. “I believe so.”
“Are you going to walk down the aisle with him?”
“I don't know. They had a rehearsal last night, but of course I was not there. I—I think I walk alone.”
The probationer had been instructed to find out other things; so she set to work with a fan at Sidney's hair.
“You've known Dr. Wilson a long time, haven't you?”
“Ages.”
“He's awfully good-looking, isn't he?”
Sidney considered. She was not ignorant of the methods of the school. If this girl was pumping her—
“I'll have to think that over,” she said, with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “When you know a person terribly well, you hardly know whether he's good-looking or not.”
“I suppose,” said the probationer, running the long strands of Sidney's hair through her fingers, “that when you are at home you see him often.”