“Oh, if I get out of that I’ll—”
What would she do? That mattered very little now. What truly mattered was the problem of her immediate conduct and ultimate escape.
“Of course,” she assured herself, “I could tell them I am not Lorena LeMar. But would they believe it? Probably not. And if they did?”
She thought of her hopes and plans, of the movie that had inspired her, of the young Italian actor who was dreaming dreams, and of Jensie.
“No,” she whispered, “not if I can help it.
“I know what I’ll do! I’ll play up to them. Let them think I am Miss LeMar. They will want me to dance. Very good, I shall dance.
“They will—”
She dared think no further.
“I’ll escape,” she told herself stoutly. “I must! But how?”
Her heart sank. Too often she had read of the cruelties practiced by these rich play-boys.