“What are they up to in there, Lennie?” she demanded. “Mr. Miller isn’t going to be married, is he?”
Nobody would have known from Dorothy’s face that she guessed that the secret had leaked out.
“Mr. Miller get married? Mr. Miller is married. What are you talking about?” she asked.
“That thing in the room at the end of the corridor there. I peeped in.”
“Then you’d no business to peep,” Dorothy replied; and she denied all knowledge of what was toward.
But presently she was sorry she had done so. Miss Umpleby, being under no obligation of secrecy, told the girls of the fashion studio what she had seen. Dorothy entered the studio as they were discussing it that same afternoon, and the hail of questions that greeted her almost blew her out of the room again.
“Here’s Lennie—she knows!”
“Is it going to be like that New York one that was in the papers, Lennie?”
“And who is it?”
“It isn’t you, Lennie, is it?”