"Yes?"
Ethel softly tried the door: as she had supposed, it was locked.
"O, Muriel, do open the door and let me in."
"Why?"
"Because, Muriel."
"But why? I'm—I'm dressing."
"But—surely you know why, Muriel. Why won't you confide in me?"
There was a long wait for the answer to this question, but the answer, when it came, was resolute enough:
"I've nothing to confide. Please go away now, Aunt Ethel, and leave me alone. Please do."