“Is that any reason why you should wear the expression of one about to confess to a coldblooded murder?”
“Wait. You know I told you Maud had been catty about my sitting to Holcomb Lee.”
“Yes.”
“This is what I overheard her say to Helen, and I’m not even sure she didn’t mean me to overhear. She said, ‘Darcy’s been sitting to Holcomb. Fancy it! Darcy as a model! I can no more imagine her being a model than I could her being engaged.’ Wasn’t that nasty of her, Gloria!”
“It was. And you very properly smothered her with a pillow as she slept and have come here to make your confession,” twinkled Gloria.
“Worse,” said Darcy in a small, tremulous voice. “Much worse.”
Gloria sat up straight. “No!” she cried hopefully.
“Yes. For Helen said, ‘Well, somebody in England seems pretty much interested in her, anyway.’ That’s what put it into my head.”
“I wish you’d put it; into mine,” said the other plaintively. “You don’t seem to get any nearer the subject of your romance, which is Man.”
“Well—promise not to laugh at me, Gloria!”